Melinda's End of the Sea
by Meowser Clancy
Summary: Pirate AU. On her way to being sent to Jamaica to live with her father, Melinda Gordon's ship is attacked by pirates...and the leader of the pirates is one Captain James Clancy. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

Melinda's End of the Sea by Meowser Clancy

* * *

 _A/N: Who could ever resist a pirate AU?_

 _Cautioning now that I definitely don't promise historical accuracy. I promise a good time and_ Jimel _sexiness, but I'm not going to go all out researching for this. I'm going to try, obviously, but please don't shoot me if Jim uses the wrong century cannon._

 _Pairings:_ Jimel

 _Andrea/OC_

 _Delia/Tim Flaherty_

 _Ned/OC (not my OC. Katie, who belongs to GhostWhispererFangirl)_

* * *

Melinda Gordon was furious, and her fists clenched at her sides. Her bathrobe and nightgown were already soaked from the short moment she'd been standing on deck and she was beginning to realize just what had happened, and that maybe she should have stayed in her cabin, like Delia had urged her to when Delia herself went up on deck to see what all the clamor was about.

The deck seemed to sway beneath Melinda's feet as she started across it, hurrying to her friend's side.

"We have been attacked by pirates," Delia said, white faced. "Why did you not stay below, Melinda?"

"I couldn't stand waiting, but why would they attack?" Melinda wondered. "We're not a merchant ship nor one bearing soldiers. What could pirates gain by attacking us?"

"They thought us an easy target, in this storm," Delia whispered.

The rain beat down over their heads. "What are we going to do? Go back beneath deck?" Melinda asked her friend. "Because I don't wish to. I don't want to hide away only to be dragged from our beds in a few hours."

They watched the scene below; a mess of their ship's crew and the pirates, who were a motley, ugly bunch.

As Melinda and Delia watched from the upper deck, more men swung from the pirate ship to theirs.

"We need to go back below," Delia said. "I see...I think that's the captain."

"Where?" Melinda asked, fists curling anew.

She didn't need this sort of peril. Her life was already complicated enough, after being summoned to sail on a ship to where her father waited in Jamaica.

She hadn't wanted to go to him. She'd never even known him, not really. But after the death of her grandmother, that was the only option for her...besides marrying.

She thought of Kevin McCall, and shuddered, knowing that she'd never let herself go back to New York if that was her only option.

But, as she'd said, the Jennifer II was no merchant ship. It was merely transportation; a few weary souls trying to get to Jamaica, to eke out a living there. They had no money, no gold. There were no rich passengers aboard the Jennifer II.

She followed where Delia's shaking hand pointed, over the heads of dirty, ugly pirates, to a man now walking the gangplank connecting the two ships.

Her breath seemed to catch, for a brief moment.

Tall, broad shouldered, muscular.

Well, of course he would be. Weren't all pirate captains? He was probably on his way to fifty in age. He probably had a wife in every port.

She straightened anew. "I'm not going back beneath deck," she vowed.

"Melinda, you have to, you don't know what these men will do to a young lady such as yourself," Delia fretted.

Poor Delia. She had only been making the trip as a favor to Melinda, since Melinda had no living relations to serve as chaperon. And now this. This was the thanks Delia got for being a good friend.

The fighting had halted below them. The Jennifer II's crew had been completely overwhelmed by the expert fighters from the pirate ship.

Captain Gregory stumbled forward, clutching his side. "Please, sir, this is merely a transportation ship. We have no valuable cargo, no gold. Our passengers are the poorest sort. There is nothing for you here. Please just let us go on our way to Jamaica."

From where she was standing, she couldn't make out the look on the pirate captain's face. He wore no hat and in the flickering flash of lightning that lit up the sky she could suddenly almost see his face. He had long black hair, almost shoulder length.

He was younger than she'd thought.

She inhaled sharply, angry to find that she had a tangled feeling in her belly; like the one she'd felt with Kevin McCall sometimes. The one that meant she found a man attractive.

No. This man...he was evil. He had to be, to attack a ship like this. There could be no justifiable explanation.

"I cannot do that," the pirate captain replied. "Tell me, good sir, what is your name?"

"I am Captain Gregory, and this is my ship, the Jennifer II," Gregory stammered. "I have been transporting passengers from New York to Jamaica for a good fifteen years now. I have never carried anything of real value. I am not a merchant, sir."

"Captain Gregory, I appreciate your words of introduction," the pirate captain replied. "I am Captain James Clancy. And I promise you, your ship will make it to Jamaica."

"Blessed be," Gregory whispered. "Then why did you stop us?"

Captain Clancy smiled; Melinda could hear it in his voice over the pounding rain.

"Your ship will make it to Jamaica," he replied. "With me and my crew on board."

Silence, but for the storm.

"What do you mean?" Gregory asked.

"Our ship sustained damage in a previous attack; it can no longer carry us to shore. I merely wish a ride on your boat, Captain," Captain Clancy said.

Melinda reached for Delia's hand, ready to sink back into the shadows.

She glanced behind her to see Andrea, the only captain's sister's slave, standing there behind them.

"What's happening?" Andrea whispered.

"We're being taken over," Melinda said, after a beat.

Gratefulness flashed in Andrea's eyes that she hadn't been ignored, and the dark skinned woman stepped forward to join Melinda and Delia at the rail.

"Pirates, yes?" Andrea asked.

"Yes, they're going to overtake the ship, I believe," Delia said. "We should get back below deck, pretend that we've been in our cabins all along. I think...maybe, this pirate captain means us no harm."

"That cannot possibly be true," Melinda said. "He is probably lying to gain Captain Gregory's trust."

Andrea nodded solemnly, surveying the scene below.

"Captain Clancy, I—I don't know what to say," Gregory said.

"We need only room for my crew, our valuables...and a cabin for myself," Captain Clancy told him. "You, unfortunately, will have to spend the remainder of your days locked up. I'm afraid that there will only be room for one captain on this ship. And, for everyone's safety, your crew will have to be locked in the hold. I promise; once we reach Jamaica you can have your precious ship back."

"And the passengers?" Gregory asked.

Delia, Melinda and Andrea instinctively shrank back, but it was too late.

Captain Clancy was looking up, to see if there was anyone watching. Melinda's breath caught to see his upturned face, searching the upper decks, his eyes alighting on her, Delia and Andrea in turn.

He gave a sharp nod.

Melinda turned to Delia in a panic, wondering what on earth that was supposed to mean, and then there were brawny arms taking hold of her, dragging her down the steps; she saw that Delia and Andrea had been captured too, by some of Captain Clancy's men.

Curses.

"I see we have some passengers waiting to greet us," Captain Clancy said, walking forward.

"Please—" Gregory began, but Captain Clancy only held up his hand and Gregory fell silent.

His gaze moved from woman to woman, not staying long on Andrea and Delia, but when his gaze fell on Melinda, his lips curved into a slow smile, and he folded his arms across his broad chest.

"Who do we have here?" He whispered, stepping closer to her.

She wanted to shrink back but it would mean lessening the distance between herself and her captor, so she stood firm.

Captain Clancy's eyes seemed to be raking over every single inch of her, pausing at certain parts of her anatomy for so long that Melinda flushed a bright red.

She looked down at herself for a moment, and her blush deepened. In the struggle of being caught, her bathrobe had been untied; it had fallen open to reveal her nightgown, which was now completely plastered to her skin. She wondered what had been visible to him, but she had no way to tie the robe again.

Captain Clancy snapped his fingers and the man holding her fell back, letting her go. Melinda rubbed her wrists, staring up at Captain Clancy and making no move to tie her robe, even though she knew that he knew that she'd noticed its sudden lack of coverage.

"That is Miss Gordon," Gregory said, after no one spoke for a long moment.

The storm was dying away; the sea was settling.

"This is Miss Banks," Gregory continued, gesturing to Delia. "And that is Andrea, my sister's slave."

Captain Clancy didn't even look at them. Instead he reached out and took one of Melinda's hands, bringing it to his lips before she could stop him.

His lips were hot, almost seeming to scald her cold skin. They seemed to part, and then, out of sight of everyone else, Captain Clancy flipped her hand over to kiss her palm; open mouthed.

Melinda couldn't breathe. She felt that part of her stomach stir to life again; she felt her breasts grow heavy and sore...were her nipples hard? She didn't want to know. She didn't want to look, for she was afraid that they'd be visible to Captain Clancy too.

In a moment of decisiveness and panic, Melinda jerked her hand away and let it fly. Her hand connected with his cheek with a resounding slap. "How dare you, you cur!" Melinda snapped, and then gasped as he caught her wrist in his big hand, jerking her towards him, twisting her body nearer to his.

She could see the mark her hand had left clear on his face. He looked angry. "The next time you let your hand fly like that you won't like the outcome," he warned her.

Their bodies were close. Too close. She could sense that he felt it too; her breath was coming in pants, and she was suddenly frozen.

His eyes were blue, she realized. Terribly blue. She stared up at him, terrified, and something seemed to soften in his face. His hand around her wrist felt almost gentle, for a moment, as he let go of her.

She backed away, and then Captain Clancy was striding forward again, until she was pressed against the wall of the ship, him looming over her. He was reaching his hands out, so big and controlling...and then they landed on her waist, slipping around her until they found the ties of her bathrobe.

His hands brushed against her side, not touching her breasts, though he had ample excuse to. Melinda watched as he tied her bathrobe, tightly, not touching any part of her body that would have made her uncomfortable.

"You're just a girl after all," he whispered, in words that only she was meant to hear. "I didn't mean to frighten you. You had ample right to slap me."

She watched as he let go of the ties and turned around, striding back into the midst of his crew. "Captain Gregory, I'll need you to go to your cabin. Jamison, make sure that all of his men go peaceably down below to be locked up. The rest of you, bring our cargo over."

"And you, captain?" The man who seemed to be Jamison asked. He was a huge black man, taller even than Captain Clancy, and even more muscular.

"I'm going to get someone to escort these ladies back to their cabins," Captain Clancy replied, and the crowd of pirates began to disperse, going to their assigned tasks. "Ned!"

A teenage boy came out of the crowd of pirates, lanky and friendly looking. "Yes, captain?"

"Ask Miss Banks where these ladies' cabins are, and escort them there," Captain Clancy ordered.

"Yes, captain," Ned replied, quick as a wink.

He came dashing over to where they stood, as Captain Clancy strode across the deck towards his ship, with a quick pace.

As Ned began to lead them up the stairs so that they could go back to their cabins, Melinda couldn't take her eyes off of Captain Clancy's back. She pondered over the words he'd spoken, wondering if some of his bravado was just an act.

Just a girl.

She wasn't just a girl. As Ned led them to their cabin, Delia tugged at Melinda, trying to make her face forward, but Melinda didn't want to take her eyes off of him.

She wasn't just a girl. She was a woman.

And suddenly she wanted to be a woman in his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Ned led them to their cabin, carefully following Miss Banks' directions. He knew that if he did something foolish right now, he would never hear the end of it from Jim and so kept quiet, just leading them onwards.

Miss Gordon was straining to look behind her at Jim's retreating back.

Ned wasn't surprised that Jim had finally managed to hook someone with his silly pirate captain act.

He stopped in front of Misses Banks' and Gordon's cabin, gesturing for them to go in. "I shan't lock you up," he said. "But I do caution you to be careful. Jim, er, Captain Clancy does keep a tight watch on his crew, but he can't promise safety for you ladies if you go where you shouldn't be."

Miss Banks glared at him before opening the door, forcibly tugging Miss Gordon inside with her, slamming the door behind them and not giving Ned the courtesy of a farewell.

He turned to Andrea, the slave, and she was glaring at him too.

"Miss," he addressed, and something flashed in her eyes; shock. "Where's your cabin located?"

"I can go there myself," she began.

"Captain Clancy gave me an order," he said politely.

Andrea sighed. "It's this way," she said. "We turn and go all the way to the end."

"Thank you, miss," he told her.

"Why are you calling me miss?" She questioned, pausing. "I'm...just a slave."

"You're a woman; it's a gesture of respect," he said simply.

She nodded, going ahead of him, back ramrod straight. But she didn't glare at him anymore, and her arms swung freely at her sides.

Ned led followed her down the dark corridor, and she finally reached the cabin door, and it swung open just as they reached it.

"Andrea, what took so long and what's happening up there?"

A young lady, perhaps the same age as Ned, who was 19, poked her head out of the cabin, and then completely stepped into the hallway. "My aunt is finally asleep again, I gave her some powder," she whispered. "What's happened?"

It was then that she saw Ned.

Her eyes widened. "Who is this?" She asked, folding her arms over herself.

Ned blushed a little, realizing that, like Misses Banks and Gordon, she wore only a nightgown, and it was rather seethrough.

He was just a young man. He couldn't help noticing the telltale bumps and curves underneath her nightgown, proving that she was just as shapely as Miss Gordon had been, though taller.

"The Jennifer II has been overtaken by pirates," Andrea said. "This is the captain's cabin boy."

"I'm not his cabin boy!" Ned exclaimed. "I'm his..."

He trailed off, knowing he may be a bit more than a cabin boy, but really...yes, he was a cabin boy.

"What about my father?" The girl asked, panic in her voice. "What did they do to him?" He saw Andrea step between Ned and the girl, as if ready to restrain the girl from attacking him. Vibrant eyes met Ned's, and he swallowed as the girl stared at him, anger in her gaze.

"Captain Gregory is locked in his cabin for the duration of the voyage, but his life is safe," Andrea told the girl.

"You're Captain Gregory's daughter?" Ned blurted.

"Yes," she spat. "And you are one of barbarians who stole his ship!"

She lunged forward to attack him, but Ned was quickfooted. In a moment, he had grabbed her arms, pulling her to him in the process. He felt the warmth of her body near to him, and his young mind went to all sorts of places.

Andrea was intervening though, carefully pulling her back off of him. "Miss Katherine! That will not help!"

Katherine. A beautiful name.

"Aye, Katie, you don't want to get on my bad side," Ned said. "The captain listens to what I say."

It was only a half truth.

Katie's eyes flashed. He had only called her Katie to tease her, but already he couldn't stop thinking of her as Katie.

"Don't call me that," she hissed. "And if your captain does listen, then you can tell him to—"

"Miss Katherine!" Andrea cautioned.

Katie fell silent, a murderous glare on her face. Ned let go her hands.

"I warn you to not do anything foolish," he said. "Captain Clancy would prefer to not have to lock you up, but if you do anything foolish...like try to rescue your father...I do warn you that punishment will follow."

* * *

Andrea carefully held one arm out, making sure that Katie didn't try to run after Ned and attack him again. "He's right, Katie," she whispered, daring to call her Katie now that they were alone.

She'd been Katie's birthday present from her father, but Katie had made it immediately clear that she didn't expect Andrea to treat her like Katie owned Andrea.

"We'll be friends. I don't like slavery," she said baldly. "I think it's wrong, but I don't want to hurt my father."

Andrea respected that. She'd never known someone quite like Katie, someone who let a slave call her by her first name; by her nickname, no less!

And Katie was a true friend. She'd stick with Andrea to the end.

"What happened?" Katie asked her, turning to Andrea with big eyes.

"Pirates attacked," Andrea told her, guiding her back into the cabin and shutting the door carefully behind her. "This Captain Clancy's ship was going down, so he commandeered this one. He promised to keep your father and the crew safe; right now your father is in his cabin and theJennifer II's crew is locked below. He says that once we reach Jamaica, he'll return the ship to your father, everyone unharmed."

"As if anyone could believe that lie! He stole the ship!" Katie hissed.

Andrea sighed. "I don't see a reason to doubt his word. There are some honorable pirates. And we don't have any valuable cargo, which they would have seen before attacking. I believe him."

Katie glared at her. "But he locked my father up," she said, voice breaking.

"Your father will be fine," Andrea assured her, pulling her close. "I promise."

* * *

Jim relaxed for the first time in hours, looking around himself at the first mate's cabin on the Jennifer II.

He'd been about to die. They all had. Their ship, Dan's ship, was beyond repair after that last battle.

And then right in their path was the most welcome view in the world: a transportation ship. Defenseless and in perfect condition.

It had been a live or die situation. They crept up on it; in the dark night, it was too late for gunfire by the time the sleepy Jennifer II noticed them.

The battle had been simple, and easily won. They were not fighting hardened men, just simple sailors trying to make a living.

Jim couldn't remember ever being so terrified as when he walked the planks between the ships, except, perhaps, when his brother had invited him to come along on his 'merchant ship' and then Jim learned that it wasn't a merchant ship. It wasn't a merchant ship and now Jim was a wanted man, just like Dan.

It was all an act, Jim reflected, slowly undressing. It was an act; imitating Dan and his way with the other captains they'd come across in the short time Jim had sailed with his brother. Imitating how Dan was with women.

He felt his cheeks color, and he lifted his hand to his cheek, feeling like he could still feel the sting of Miss Gordon's hand on his face.

He'd deserved it. He'd deserved all of it. If he'd been the one on the transportation ship, only to see it taken over by pirates...

He shook his head, staring at himself in the mirror, cataloging how his body had changed in six short months. Previously a scholar, with a scholar's body, his chest was now broad; his shoulders wide, tapering down to a still slim waist. He had muscles now, in places he hadn't even realized you could get muscles.

And he had scars.

He rubbed his hand over one of them, suddenly taken back to the past, feeling anger and terror and grief.

Dan was gone. Forever.

And Jim had the scars to prove it.

He moved about the first mate's cabin, knowing that he was pacing, that he should stop dwelling on the past, that what was done, was done.

There was nothing that could change things. Nothing that could change what happened on that fateful day.

A knock sounded on the door, and he moved to open it. Ned stood there.

"Cap'n, the ladies are settled in their cabins," Ned reported.

"Good," Jim replied. "Did you have any trouble with Miss Gordon?"

There was a hunger in Jim's voice as he asked the words, and he knew that Ned could tell. He hadn't known the boy long, but they'd grown close, bonding over their respective lost families, because they both needed someone in their life.

Ned had become like a brother to Jim. He suspected that Ned saw himself as more like a father, though.

"Not with Miss Gordon," Ned said brightly. "Miss Banks took care of that."

Jim frowned, turning to sit on the nailed-down bed to pull his boots off.

"Is there a but coming?" He questioned.

Ned folded his arms. Jim reflected that Ned, too, had grown up in his time on the boat. They had boarded the same day. Their lives had changed the same day. Ned had been there for all of it.

Every single bit. The argument. The settling. The acceptance. And the death of all hope for both of them.

"I had an interesting encounter with Captain Gregory's daughter," Ned said.

Jim frowned again. "His daughter was on board? That might make things a bit more complicated."

Ned sighed. "Yes. Miss Andrea is Katherine Gregory's slave, so when I took Miss Andrea back..."

Jim looked up at him, seeing the respect Ned had even for slaves. He was a good boy. He'd learned well. "What happened?"

"She tried to...well, she succeeded in attacking me, and Miss Andrea had to pull her off of me," Ned said.

Jim saw a faint flush on Ned's cheeks.

"How old is she?" He questioned a bit sharply.

"Not quite as old as I am, but close," Ned admitted.

Jim was spot on. He could almost envision it. "Let me guess. She has a fair face."

"More than fair," Ned said, breathing out heavily in memory.

"Will she make trouble later on with her father?" Jim asked.

"I know she will," Ned said. "I wouldn't be surprised if she was sneaking out now to try and free him."

Jim groaned. "The last thing we need. Ned, it's going to be your duty to make certain that that doesn't happen. We aren't planning on harming anyone on this ship. You need to make her understand that, but if it proves to be impossible, just make sure that she doesn't let anyone in the hold go."

"Of course," Ned said. "I'll keep an eye on her my every waking hour."

Jim paused. "You could let her see her father, though," he relented. "Just for a few minutes. Maybe he could talk her down. I'll have to see Captain Gregory about that myself. Tell him it would be in everyone's best interests."

"Indeed," Ned said. "I'm going to go sleep now, and I'll be up bright and early to keep an eye on Miss Gregory. Sleep well, cap'n."

"God be with you," Jim murmured. After Ned had left, Jim rubbed a hand on his forehead. "And it's Jim. I wish you could call me Jim."


	3. Chapter 3

The next day came soon; too soon.

Delia stirred awake, feeling stiff and confused. She didn't remember, in the first few moments of waking up, what had happened last night, until there was a pounding knock at the door.

Seeing that Melinda was sprawled across her bed, still fast asleep, Delia got up, grabbed her robe and tied it hastily around herself. She wondered who it'd be.

And then she opened the door and a pirate stood in front of her.

And everything from last night flooded back into her mind, mercilessly slamming into her and bringing all the memories of that pirate captain and Melinda's reaction to him.

"Good day," the pirate greeted. "I'm Tim Flaherty and I've been given the task of watching after you ladies for the rest of our trip. Are you wanting some breakfast?"

He had a lilting Irish accent, matched only by his flashing eyes.

She wanted to shut the door in his face, desperately.

But instead she forced a smile. "Not yet," she said. "My young friend Miss Gordon still sleeps so if you could come back later..."

"The sun has been up for hours already!" Mr. Flaherty exclaimed. "And your friend still lies abed?"

"We were awoken rather rudely in the middle of the night and Miss Gordon lost some sleep," Delia said stiffly.

Mr. Flaherty laughed. "I suppose you were, then. I offer my apologies and I shall be back later to ask my question again."

"Thank you," she said, knowing that getting along with their captors could only help in the end.

He grinned, leaning on the doorway. "Is there something in particular you favor?" He asked, eyes sparkling down at her.

Delia felt a stir of emotion in her stomach, one not felt since she'd known Charlie, years and years ago.

"I...well, the ship has but a small supply of food," she said.

He grinned. "We pirates are good for something," he said cheerfully. "We had plenty of food to bring on board last night from our last round of pillaging."

Delia closed her eyes. "And I'm supposed to eat stolen food?" She asked.

Unabashed, he grinned wider, if that were possible. "Miss Banks, you'll have to, if you want to eat while on this ship."

With that, he pushed away from the door and strode off, his careless swagger thoroughly annoying Delia.

* * *

Melinda spent the whole morning in the cabin, once awoken. Mr. Flaherty, as Delia called him, brought them some food, which Melinda could only bring herself to pick at.

The devil take these pirates, she thought to herself, staring at the food, which was much better quality than anything Captain Gregory had ever served.

She finally took the orange, knowing that she'd rather not get scurvy, and went to the cabin door.

"What are you doing, Melinda?" Delia asked, warning in her voice.

"I'm not going to stay cooped inside here for the rest of the journey," Melinda protested.

"You aren't even dressed yet," Delia scolded.

Melinda looked down at her outfit; she was wearing her underwear and corset, petticoats so far from starched that they'd make no dress look wider.

"Then I'll dress," she sighed, and took one of her cotton dresses from the nailed-down wardrobe.

It was a simple dress, since anything good would be destroyed by such a voyage, and not stand up to Jamaica's heat either. Before leaving New York she'd replaced almost all of her wardrobe with cotton.

It was fitted, at least, to her body, showing off the narrow waist—the one thing her mother had given her—blossoming hips and ample bosom.

She tugged at the bodice as Delia reluctantly did the buttons up the back, a terribly long row of them.

"Are you pulling it down?" Delia said, aghast, and Melinda shrugged.

"It's not supposed to be high necked," she said, as Delia tried to tug the neckline back up.

"Oh, Melinda," Delia sighed. "Wait a moment and I'll go with you."

"Meet me up there," Melinda dared, and darted from the cabin before Delia could protest.

She made the journey from below to above deck in seconds, since she'd gone on deck multiple times every day of her voyage, giving herself a rather deep tan, but if she was going to Jamaica anyway, who was she to keep her skin pale and unblemished for?

The cabin had been stifling her all morning, making her feel constricted. She was dying for the sea air, to breathe, and pirates or no pirates, she was going outside.

Her world immediately calmed when she emerged onto the deck, and hurried over to the rail, clutching it with both hands and tossing her head back to get the full brunt of the sun and sea. Freedom. This was freedom.

The boat rocked, and Melinda closed her eyes, listening to the slap of the waves against the side. She heard the shouts of the pirate crew below, and tried hard to ignore them.

"Move!" She heard a shout.

There were footsteps behind her, and she clung a little tighter to the rail, not wanting to be pulled away from it; taken back downstairs to slowly suffocate.

The ship tipped suddenly, and Melinda pitched forward a little. Her eyes flew open, noticing that they were coming upon a school of whales—and that if she didn't take care, she might be swept overboard from the waves that the whales were making, buffeting the ship.

There was another shout, and then an arm around her waist, pulling her back, startling her into pulling away from the rail.

Another wave came up, soaking the spot she'd been standing in just a moment before.

She let herself investigate who was holding her, but the tickle in her stomach told her that she might already know. The forearm was bare, tanned, muscular, with white shirt rolled up to the elbow. The stomach behind her was hard, tight.

She dared to glance up at her captor.

Captain Clancy.

He was scowling at her. "Were you trying to get yourself killed?" He asked.

"Maybe I preferred being swept overboard to staying on a ship run by pirates," she snapped.

He let go of her rather roughly, and Melinda stumbled from his arms, taking a moment to catch her balance again on the swaying ship.

"I'd really rather not have to order you to be locked in your cabin for the duration of this voyage," Captain Clancy told her, patience in his voice.

She got a good glimpse of him now; black hair that just touched his shoulders; clear, blue eyes; tanned skin. He was dressed in a simple white shirt and breeches, not looking at all like the pirate captain he was.

He looked steadily back at her, until Melinda realized quite suddenly that she was staring, and turned her eyes to the sea.

"I...I was feeling trapped, staying in my cabin all morning," she suddenly confessed. "Captain Gregory never limited my time on deck."

"And neither will I," Captain Clancy replied, crossing his muscular arms over his broad chest. "Provided that you don't go so close to the rail that your life is endangered."

She tossed her head, irritated by his domineering line. "My life was safe," she said.

"Your life, maybe, but not your clothes," he snapped, nodding his head at the now soaked rail. "And that's such a pretty dress. It'd be a pity if it got ruined."

His gaze now swept over her, as if proving his point. She flushed under the thorough investigation, seeing his eyes pass over the striped pattern of the bodice, and down to the stripes of the flowing skirt, pausing a little at the cinched waist.

She inhaled, elevating her cleavage, and his eyes shot to the neckline of her dress, frozen.

She turned away from him, going stubbornly back to the rail, clinging again with both hands.

Her heart was pounding, and her mouth had gone dry in the few moments spent staring at Captain Clancy...and being stared at by him. She'd never known such a bold man.

* * *

Captain Clancy strode quickly down the deck towards him, and Jamison jumped to attention.

"Anything I can do for you, Cap'n?" He questioned, falling into stride next to his captain with ease.

"Find Ned," Captain Clancy almost growled, looking back at the woman he'd left at the rail. "Tell him to make sure that Miss Gordon doesn't fall overboard."

Jamison stifled a laugh. Captain Clancy was taking this hard, but then again, this was the first time he'd done something like this. Jamison remembered the previous night; how Captain Clancy had imitated all of Dan's gestures and words to a 't'.

He sobered then, remembering why exactly Captain Clancy would be needing to copy Dan. It was because Dan was a pirate; and Captain Clancy wasn't. Because Dan had been selfish enough to want his doctor brother on board with him without giving his little brother a choice in whether he wanted to lose his life as a free man.

* * *

Katie slipped past Andrea at the last moment, hurrying out onto deck.

It was like a whole new ship. She didn't recognize any of the crew, and she couldn't see her father anywhere, of course.

She knew exactly where his cabin was, and took off in that direction, hearing Andrea call behind her, and ignoring her voice for one of the first times since she'd known Andrea.

Her heart was beating quickly, and she was finally standing outside of the captain's cabin.

"Father?" She called, voice anxious, pounding on the door with her fist. "Are you in there?"

She heard the sound of rustling and the curtain on the window pushed aside.

"Katie!" He exclaimed. "What are you doing? You'll only get in trouble."

"I'm going to help you out of there," Katie insisted.

"No, Katie, they're treating me well," Captain Gregory insisted back. "I do not want you to get in trouble, dearest. I don't mind being locked in my cabin. Captain Clancy has promised my safety, and my crew's safety, if we don't try to rebel and take the ship back. It is not worth it, Katie, darling."

"Of course it is," Katie said, tears stinging her eyes. "I don't want you in there, father."

She pulled at the doorknob, but she didn't have a key.

"Katie!" Captain Gregory called in frustration. "Please don't do this."

"I'd listen to your father if I were you," a voice said behind her, and she turned around to see that cursed cabin boy, Ned.

His arms were folded over his tanned chest, white shirt gaping and damp, clinging to his skin. His hair was going curly in the sea air, and he wasn't wearing shoes, looking slightly out of breath, like he'd been running.

"Leave me alone," she exclaimed. "I'm going to let my father out and when I do, you'll be in trouble."

"Katie!" Captain Gregory exclaimed from inside the cabin.

"Don't worry, Captain, I'm not paying her any mind," Ned assured him through the door and Katie shot him a dirty glare. "You know, Katie, it's rather a pity that you snuck out like this. I was under Cap'n's orders to let you see your father today...if you behaved." He walked forward. "It doesn't seem like you did."

"Curse the both of you, I don't obey either of you," she said angrily, tilting her head back to look him in the eye as he got closer to her.

Ned turned to face her father. "My apologies for the scene you're about to witness, Captain Gregory, but I have to take your daughter back to her cabin." He turned to look at her, eyes narrowing. "And lock her in."

"Father!" Katie exclaimed furiously.

"Please, Katie, don't let your temper get the better of you," Captain Gregory pleaded. "Just let Ned take you back to your cabin and maybe we can talk again tomorrow if you're good."

Skirts swirling, Katie stomped her foot. "Don't you dare try to force me back into that cabin," she spat at Ned.

"Again, sir, my apologies," Ned said, advancing on her.

She saw a look in his eye that made her shiver, and turned, grabbing fistfuls of her skirts and running away from him, going the very opposite direction of her cabin. She'd grown up on ships. She'd lost none of her natural abilities, even while in this cursed dress.

She hated being ladylike.

She heard the pounding of his footsteps behind her, and shouts. She passed crewmen, all who just stared at her, openmouthed.

"I'm taking care of it, Jamison, don't worry!" Ned shouted, and she chanced a look over her shoulder, smiling victoriously. Her familiarity with the ship gave her feet wings, and she panted, trying to decide where to go.

Ned was closing in, so she took the only way out, running to the rope ladder that led up to the crow's nest.

It had been years since she'd gone up this ladder, banned from it by her father at about the same time she let her skirts down, put her hair up and was called a lady instead of a girl.

She'd lost none of her skill at it, clinging with both hands and moving her feet quickly, clinging to the rope and making a steady ascent.

There was no pirate in the crow's nest currently. She reflected on Ned's condition and figured that he must have been up there before coming down to confront her in front of her father's cabin.

It was then that she realized a fatal flaw in her plan. There was only one way to get down from the crow's nest.

She reached it, panting, forcing herself to stand up in the tiny perch, looking down to see Ned advancing on her.

Well.

Clearly she hadn't thought this through.


	4. Chapter 4

Andrea fought her way through to the deck, finally escaping from Miss Gregory's clutches, in search of her young charge.

Katie was such a wild thing sometimes. Andrea had turned around for one moment, tricked into paying attention to Miss Gregory's hysterics, and when she turned around, Katie was nowhere in sight and the chest that Andrea had shoved in front of the door to keep Katie inside had been shoved aside.

Andrea fought a rising panic. Surely Captain Clancy wouldn't follow through on threats to punish Katie. She was just a girl, missing her father, scared and a bit too independent for her own good.

Andrea bit her lip, searching the deck.

She could see Miss Gordon, standing at the rail, chin pointed high in the air, and frowned a bit.

"Miss Gordon," she finally called. "Have you seen Miss Katherine?"

"Katie?" Miss Gordon replied, turning to face Andrea. "No, I don't think so. But then again, I've been looking out at the sea for the past while so she could very well have come up on deck and I wouldn't have noticed."

"Thank you," Andrea replied.

"Is there a problem?" Miss Gordon asked, walking forward. "I'd hate for Katie to get in trouble."

"I think she went to try and let her father out," Andrea worried. "But I...I'm not sure if I dare go down there. When Captain Gregory had control of the ship, I...I was not allowed to roam freely."

Miss Gordon smiled, reaching Andrea's side. "Then we can go together down to Captain Gregory's cabin," she said. "Come on, Andrea."

"Thank you, Miss Gordon," Andrea said, feeling relief that Miss Gordon was so amenable.

"No thanks are necessary," Miss Gordon said, eyes sparkling warmly as she looked at Andrea. "And please, call me Melinda as long as we aren't in mixed company."

Andrea bit her lip, nodding, following the shorter woman as Miss Gordon...Melinda...shot off across the deck, walking with a confidence that amazed Andrea. After last night...remembering how Captain Clancy had looked at Melinda...if a man had been looking at Andrea like Captain Clancy had looked at Melinda, Andrea would not let herself walk about thusly.

Speaking of being looked at...

Andrea frowned, feeling, sensing a gaze on her, looking all around her for who it was. There were pirates settled everywhere, it seemed, but none was watching her. If anything, they were looking at Melinda.

And then she looked up, and the man from last night...dark skin, cropped hair, hugely muscled...Captain Clancy's first mate...he was staring at her. His gaze was so intent that Andrea wanted to turn away in embarrassment, but she held his gaze instead, staring straight back, until the first mate smiled, and turned away, perhaps signalling a victory for Andrea.

She felt a flush rise on her cheeks as she turned back to following Melinda, looking stubbornly ahead now.

* * *

Ned started climbing almost without thinking, knowing only that Cap'n would slaughter him if he let himself be bested by Katie.

He felt sorry for her...or he had. When she'd just been standing desperate outside of her father's cabin, he'd pitied her, but that feeling had dissipated about the time she took off for the crow's nest.

Feeling sorry for her had even lasted while he was chasing her, though a little desire had begun to creep in as he pursued her, seeing only the toss of her hair and the fire in her eyes, and glimpses of bare feet and pale ankles.

Yes, until about now he'd only felt empathy.

But now she was in the crow's nest, staring down at him, and he was almost afraid that she'd take hold of one of the ropes there and swing down just to escape him. She'd grown up on a ship, after all. She might just try it.

He couldn't imagine the amount of ribbing he'd get if he let her escape, and quickened his pace.

"Ned!"

He heard Cap'n's voice and looked down. "I'm going to catch her," he called down.

"How did she get up there in the first place?" Cap'n asked, disbelief in his voice.

"She climbed!" Ned shouted back, a little frustrated. Surely that much was obvious.

There was quite a crowd gathering, as the pirates grew bored and decided to watch the show.

Ned was getting closer.

* * *

Jim stared up in horror. He would never forgive himself if Captain Gregory's daughter was injured because of him. He should have just had her escorted to see him first thing, to minimize her desire to try and pull off something like this.

Damn it all.

He heard footsteps behind him, not the thudding of boots, but the soft padding of slippers, and turned around in spite of himself.

Miss Gordon was running to the scene, Andrea close behind her, and Miss Gordon didn't falter even when she saw him standing there; even when he folded his arms upon spying her.

She met his gaze, momentarily, and then turned her attention up to see where Katie was perched.

"God forbid!" Andrea gasped.

And then something happened that shook Jim's world.

Miss Gordon reached out and grabbed his arm. "You have to do something," she insisted, one small hand resting on his bicep. "You can't let her be injured. It's your fault she's up there."

"How is it my fault?" He exploded, worry and the fact that her hand was still on his arm making him a little more passionate than he should have been.

"You're the one who imprisoned her father and stole his ship!" Miss Gordon shouted. "Of course it's your fault."

"If she's a simpleton, that is not my fault," he rebutted, and her eyes flashed.

"She's a girl," Miss Gordon spat. "Maybe a bit high strung, but maybe you would be too if you'd been kidnapped!"

Jim flinched at how closely Miss Gordon hit upon what had actually happened to Jim, and what definitely hadn't happened when Jim took over theJennifer II.

"She was not kidnapped," he replied. "And Ned is up there now, about to reach her."

Miss Gordon tossed her head, removing her hand from his arm. Jim felt such disappointment at the loss of her touch that he almost reached to place her hand back, but restrained himself at the last moment, not doubting what her reaction to that would be.

* * *

Katie considered taking one of the ropes and swinging down to deck but decided that she didn't want to give the pirates below more of a show than they'd already been granted. So, instead, she folded her arms and, stoic faced, awaited Ned's arrival on top with her.

And then he was there, all tanned limbs and shaggy hair. The smile on his face, present every other time she'd seen him, had disappeared.

"You should be glad I didn't take one of the ropes down," she said, in way of apology for leading him on this merry chase.

Ned just shook his head, lowering his voice so as not to be heard below. "Why did you run, Katie? How could that help?"

Anger at him using her name made her lash out again, forgetting that it was her fault that she was up here, and that, yes, it hadn't been the best idea.

"Why did you overtake my father's ship?" She spat back. "I merely wish to help him."

"I know," Ned said, voice dead serious. "But this doesn't help him. How could you also being locked up help him?"

"Excuse me?" She asked, shocked into silence for a moment. "You wouldn't dare."

"It's what the Cap'n promised if any of the passengers didn't behave as they should," Ned said. "He wants to keep everyone safe but he can't do that if they don't cooperate. I expect he'll lock you in an empty cabin for a few days, if not the rest of the voyage."

Her hand reached out, almost of its own accord, and slapped his cheek, hard.

The sound seemed to echo.

Her hands flew up to her mouth, unable to comprehend that she'd actually just struck him.

And then Ned grinned, not a pretty sight. "You asked for it," he said, voice threatening.

And then he stepped forward, grabbed her around the waist, no tenderness or hesitancy, and tossed her over his shoulder. His movements were rough, impatient.

Katie wanted to struggle but forced herself to keep still as he started down the rope.

Maybe she had brought it upon herself.

* * *

Melinda watched in horror as Ned slung Katie over his shoulder and started down the rope. "You can't let him do that," she protested, accusing Captain Clancy.

His eyes were dark and his arms were folded tight over his chest as he watched the scene overhead. "I trust Ned," he said simply. "If that was the best, and perhaps only, way to get her down...well."

"I've never met a man as cold as you," Melinda hissed.

"You don't know what cold is," Captain Clancy replied. "And I do warn you, unless you want to end up like Miss Gregory, to calm down."

"I will not calm down," she said. "You're letting your youngest and most vulnerable passenger be manhandled."

Captain Clancy growled in the back of his throat and Melinda refused to let herself back up. "She may be young but she's not exactly vulnerable," he said. "Not when she was the one who led Ned up there."

"She was only trying to escape him," Melinda exclaimed.

"Do you feel the need to escape Ned?" Captain Clancy finally asked, turning to pierce her with his blue eyes.

"I..." She paused. "She's so young," she settled on.

"Not too young to use her wits as God commands," Captain Clancy countered.

Melinda found herself reaching for Andrea's hand as the ladder Ned was climbing down began to sway.

She felt the strong clutch of Andrea's hand and pulled the woman forward, not missing the stark contrast of brown skin against white, or how Captain Clancy didn't even blink at the sight.

Captain Gregory hadn't even let Andrea move about his ship freely.

She inhaled, not wanting to find anything redeeming about this man beside her, and exhaled when Ned and Katie reached the ground safely.

She stepped forward, pulling Andrea with her, and forced the crowd to part as she made her way over to Katie as Ned settled her back on the deck.

"What were you doing up there?" Andrea finally exclaimed after they all four just stared at each other. "Miss Katherine, I have never been so afraid."

"I just wanted...I thought..." Katie couldn't answer the question as her eyes swept the crowd of faces, pirates to the last of them.

And then Captain Clancy walked, parting the crowd without even saying anything; the instant they heard the click of his boots they moved aside to let him pass. Melinda shivered to see the power he held over this ragtag group of men as he ascended the stairs to where they stood.

"Miss Katherine, I don't think we've met," he said, turning to Katie. "I'm Captain James Clancy. I've taken over your father's ship for the rest of the voyage to Jamaica."

"Don't touch me," she said, as he reached his hand out to her.

He shrugged and pulled his hand back. "Miss Katherine, if you promise me one thing, I swear that I will let you alone and let you roam freely for the duration of the voyage."

"And what would that be?" She asked.

"To promise that you will not aid your father in escaping his cabin, or his crew from escaping down below," Captain Clancy said. "We could have a very easy voyage here, Miss Katherine. If only you let it be so."

"And if I say no?" Katie asked, throat working.

Melinda could see tears beginning to form in the girl's eyes and she ached for her.

"Then I'll have no choice but to lock you up," Captain Clancy said.

Indeed, it sounded reasonable.

But Katie was so young.

Melinda found herself stepping closer, wanting to intervene, but Andrea unexpectedly grabbed hold of Melinda's shoulder, holding her back, shaking her dark head when Melinda turned to see why.

"I...I cannot make that promise," Katie said, voice thick with unshed tears.

Captain Clancy nodded. "You've made your choice," he said. "Ned, take Jamison with you. There's an empty cabin down below. Lock her there."

 _Notes:_

 _I especially enjoyed writing those conversations between Mel and Jim this chapter because, originally, Katie is their daughter, so it really seemed like a fight they could be having, if Jim was afraid for Katie's safety and only wanted her to be careful. Melinda, of course, is a bit of a wild card herself, so she'd just want her daughter to have fun, and trust in Katie's ability to get home safely._

 _So it was just so cute to write them as parental figures even though in this one Melinda's only three years older than Katie and Jim is only trying to keep both his_ crew, _and the crew of the Jennifer II, safe and sound for the duration of the voyage. So it was nice to give them a valid disagreement where both sides of the argument had equal merit._

 _And_ of course _Katie wouldn't make that promise. It might be reasonable, and just of Jim to ask it of her, but it's her father. She couldn't and wouldn't._


	5. Chapter 5

"What happened?" Delia asked in horror as Melinda returned to the cabin. "I went up and you were nowhere in sight."

"There was a bit of a fiasco on deck," Melinda confessed, sagging onto the bed and telling Delia all that had happened.

Her words were accompanied by hand gestures as she grew more and more vehement, telling Delia all that had transpired, and whose exact fault she thought it was.

Delia watched her younger charge and bit her lip, knowing that Melinda was already half fallen for Captain Clancy. She'd never seen Melinda talk about anyone as passionately as this.

"How dare he," Delia gasped as Melinda finished her tale. "Katie is so young and has very good reason to be distraught. Did he honestly think that she could make such a promise?" She got on the bed next to Melinda. "Poor girl," she mourned. "And I hate to think of Captain Gregory's sister being alone."

Melinda inhaled deeply, and Delia noticed the look on Melinda's face as she thought of Captain Clancy and his actions again. "Andrea will aid her, at least," she murmured, tugging at her neckline, which had gotten noticeably lower since Melinda had lain on the bed in disarray. "Is Mr. Flaherty going to bring us something to eat?"

"I suppose so," Delia said. "It must be noon by now."

"It's far past noon," Melinda said. "We passed noon when Ned was bringing Katie down." She lay back on the bed, cleavage jumping over her neckline. Delia bit her lip, wanting to correct Melinda but didn't say anything about her pose.

"Do you want me to loosen your stays?" Delia questioned, moving off of the bed.

Melinda shook her head. "I'll just try to sleep," she said, voice suddenly softer.

"I'll go find Mr. Flaherty then," Delia said, took her shawl and quietly left the cabin, leaving Melinda to rest. It had been a long day for everyone, much different than the days on their voyage preceding this. Those days had been dull, for certain, but had a calm laziness permeating them. Delia had permitted Melinda to roam as she pleased and even accompanied her on some of her wanderings at times.

Now, though, Delia had barely left the cabin all day and had been so tense when Melinda was on deck that she had gotten a pounding headache for her worries. There was a dullness, for certain, in the duration of the day, but it was filled with unwanted threats and possibilities.

She remembered the look on Captain Clancy's face when he gazed at Melinda; the stalk of his advance on her; how they had shared words that no one else could hear. The closeness of his body to hers as they'd spoken, Melinda pressed against one wall of the ship. How Melinda had been unable to tear her eyes off of him.

Delia shuddered. She had one task, and one task only: keep Melinda safe. Keep her safe and make certain that she reached Jamaica in one piece.

She wended her way through the dark and swaying corridors until she emerged on deck in blazing and burning sunshine. She blinked, holding a hand over her eyes, gazing about her in a bit of a haze. It was like a whole new ship. The pirates were almost nowhere to be seen, all about their business and doing their work in such a silent fashion that it gave Delia chills. Captain Gregory's crew was a tight one, functioning more like a family or brotherhood than a crew; they had been together for years and years, always making the same voyage. They sang songs and ribbed each other about assorted duties, all the while making sure that they missed absolutely nothing about the running of the ship.

This crew, however...Delia had never known such a somber crew. It certainly fit not picture of pirate crews that she had ever heard, but the facts stayed the same as she headed for the kitchens, guessing at their location through common sense.

She thought over that fact as she walked, unnoticed or at least not harassed by the pirates she was passing. One particularly swarthy looking fellow chanced a smile in her direction but kept moving to his duties, not even pausing.

She wondered if Melinda had had such an easy trip up on deck.

She reached the door and opened it, letting it swing all the way open before entering.

There was no one inside, but it was definitely the kitchen. Delia stepped through the doorway, letting her gaze fall on the seeming mountains of barrels and sacks that surely hadn't been there before the pirates took over. She saw a tin of chocolates and couldn't help moving forward, testing the lid and pulling it open.

It was full to the brim, with the best quality of chocolates that Delia had ever seen. Ones that she couldn't afford back home in New York.

She reached to take one, pinching it delicately between two fingers and daring to lift it to her lips.

The taste of it shocked her, seduced her, made her sigh with delight and want.

The door behind her swung shut and she leaped around to face it, seeing Mr. Flaherty standing there, amusement in his eyes. "I see you located the chocolate," he said, voice lilting. "No, don't stop. Help yourself. I'm afraid that none of us really appreciate the stuff. That tin has been with us for, well, as far back as I can remember."

She felt her cheeks coloring, almost slamming the lid back onto the tin. "I didn't intend to steal your chocolate, Mr. Flaherty, I just...couldn't help myself."

"As I said, help yourself," he urged, moving forward and placing his hand over hers on the tin.

She gasped, but didn't move from the spot.

"Let me give you more chocolate," he urged. "You look like a woman who needs it."

"What does that mean?" She asked, unconsciously licking the last of the chocolate from her lips.

"You look like you only need more sweetness to make your life better," he whispered.

She let her fingers move, let his curve over them, and they lifted the lid together.

"I...my charge, Miss Gordon, was wondering if we were going to get more than one meal a day," Delia said hoarsely, as Mr. Flaherty picked up a piece of chocolate and began to bring it up to her mouth.

"Of course, we just had a little interruption on deck," Mr. Flaherty said. "As I'm sure she told you."

"Yes, Katie and Ned..." Delia said, as the chocolate grew closer to her lips.

"I wasn't in my domain and forgot all about preparing any food for you ladies," Mr. Flaherty said. "My crew doesn't care much for fancy things, but I'm sure they'd be glad to get some better meals in now that I've got someone...to cook for."

"Who?" Delia breathed.

"You," Mr. Flaherty stated. "Now open."

She responded by pressing her lips together, shaking her head wildly.

"Come on," he urged. "You know that you want to taste the chocolate again."

"I do," she blurted, and he slipped the chocolate inside.

How sweet.

* * *

"I'll take it in to her," Andrea said, standing in front of Katie's new cabin.

Ned paused. "Those aren't my orders," he apologized.

"Let me do it," Andrea pleaded. "Seeing you will only distress her. I just want to make sure that she eats."

Ned sighed. "I'll lock you in with her for the duration," he compromised.

"Fine," Andrea said, taking the tray and charging through the door as soon as Ned had unlocked it.

"Katie," she greeted, falling to her knees by the bed that Katie was sprawled upon. "How are you?"

"Tired," Katie managed to say. "Thirsty."

"They didn't give you water?" Andrea said, angrily glancing behind her at the closing door.

"I spilled it; I was angry," Katie confessed, sitting up on the bed and hugging her knees to her chest. "What is this?"

"Dinner," Andrea told her, showing the simple but nourishing fare off. "Mr. Flaherty, the new crew's cook, made soup."

Katie let Andrea bring the spoon to her lips, swallowing quickly. "He's a much better cook than father's," she confessed, taking the spoon from Andrea and beginning to eat eagerly, taking spoonful after spoonful of the creamy broth.

"They have more supplies than your father did," Andrea continued. "Better quality."

"Considering that it's all stolen, I'm not surprised," Katie said. "If you're going to nab something, it might as well be high quality."

She took the piece of bread next to the soup, dipping it into the broth.

"I haven't eaten this well all voyage," she said.

"I know," Andrea said. "Your father..."

"Is stingy," Katie finished for her. "Don't be afraid to say it when it is just us."

Andrea sighed, leaning back on her feet. "I don't wish to overstep bounds," she said simply.

"You aren't," Katie assured her, taking the glass of water and downing it quickly. "Captain Clancy has actual glassware. I'm reluctantly impressed."

"He's a pirate," Andrea parroted Katie's earlier admissions. "No wonder he can afford to find the good things in life."

* * *

Jim was slumped over his desk, sleeping on his maps, when Ned entered, bearing food for his cap'n.

"Cap'n, wake up," Ned greeted.

Jim jerked to attention, awake in an instant, one hand going to his saberless hip.

"Sorry," Ned apologized, placing the tray in front of him.

"Don't put it so near to the maps," Jim managed, voice thick with sleep.

"Sorry," Ned repeated, moving the maps for Jim; the other man's hands were moving to move them himself but his movements were slowed by sleep.

Ned wondered if Jim had slept at all last night, after the events of taking the ship.

"What is this?" Jim said.

"Soup," Ned said. "Tim made it."

"Tim can cook?" Jim blurted, tasting the soup. "He can cook like this and he's been serving us hard tack this whole time?"

Ned laughed. "I suppose it's to the benefit of our new passengers," he said slyly. "I may have seen Miss Banks leaving the kitchen earlier this afternoon."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Just what I said," Ned said. "I don't know what happened inside but I hadn't seen anyone go in so she must have been in there awhile."

Jim nodded, finishing his soup rapidly. "I'm going to have to have a talk with him about not trying before," he murmured.

Soup gone, he lingered over the piece of bread. "So."

"Yes?" Ned said, coming to attention now that Jim's captain demeanor was back.

"Have you taken Miss Gregory her dinner yet?" Jim asked, stretching his legs beneath his desk and hitting the wall with his feet.

A ship's cabin wasn't a nice place to be a man as tall as Jim.

"Yes," Ned said. "I should actually be going back over there to fetch the dishes."

"You didn't stay to make sure she actually ate?" Jim said. "I wouldn't put it past her to try and starve herself."

Ned chuckled, agreeing with the sentiment privately. "Miss Andrea offered to bring it in to her and make sure she ate so I locked them both in."

"Well, I'm glad you let her do as she wished for her mistress," Jim said. "Andrea certainly seems dedicated to Miss Gregory."

"Yes," Ned said. He gathered Jim's scraped empty dishes. "Are you going to actually sleep tonight?" He questioned, as Jim turned back to his maps.

"I hope so," Jim said, and met his cabin boy's gaze. "But I can't guarantee it."

"Should I return to put out your lantern?" Ned asked.

Jim laughed. "No, no, I'll get to it," he vowed. "Go on, Ned. Find an empty hammock."

Ned nodded. "G'night, Cap'n," he said.

The words froze them for a moment, breaking the spell, reminding them of life's changes.

"Yes," Jim said quietly. "Good night."

* * *

Melinda finished her bowl of soup, lingering over the food and letting her take her time.

Delia was standing at the window, a dreamy look on her face, one that Melinda had no idea what to make of.

"You were gone for awhile this afternoon, weren't you?" Melinda asked. "I woke up a few times and you were never there."

"I...stayed in the kitchen to help T—Mr. Flaherty with the, um, soup," Delia admitted.

"You can't cook," Melinda said flatly.

Delia's eyes were twinkling as she looked at Melinda. "No, but can you blame me?" She asked.

"He's a pirate," Melinda said, placing the bowl aside and lying back on the bed. "Isn't that enough?"

Delia's voice grew sharp. "You're a young girl with endless possibilities," she said, striding to pick up the bowl. "I am not. I will take...happiness in any place I can find it, be it fleeting or impossible."

Melinda fell silent, feeling chastised.

Delia left the cabin, carrying the dishes.

Pirates were pirates...weren't they? How could anything redeem them in Delia's eyes, considering yesterday's events? Considering all the horror tales of pirates' actions.

Yet not all men were the same. Not all captains fit the same mold.

Not at all.

* * *

Night fell on the pirate ship.

The waves buffeted the ship, lulling the crew to sleep.

Jim left his cabin near to midnight, giving up on ever finding sleep.

He was quickly finding himself with more and more nights like this, where he couldn't sleep at all, no matter how utterly exhausted. His mind would not stop working.

He knew he was in a danger zone. His studies, the fact that he was a doctor, urged him to remember how deleterious not getting enough sleep was. Men had died without enough sleep.

He reached the rail of the ship, staring out at the moonlit water. It was so peaceful, so deceptively calm. Yet he knew, all too well, how that could change in an instant. How everything was different, divided into before it happened...and after.

Jim was stuck in the after, forever, without any hope of escape.


	6. Chapter 6

Katie fought against her captor, feeling only terror. "Please let me go," she gasped, feeling only constriction and terror.

And there was her father, gun at his head.

"No, don't hurt him!" She screamed, the words raw.

She thrashed herself awake, sitting up in bed with a cry, almost banging her head on the lower ceiling in this room.

Uncontrollable sobs overtook her and she clutched at the flat pillow, trying to silence herself. She didn't want to show weakness. She didn't know if anyone was patrolling but it was none of their business if she was having nightmares.

It had been so long. And the tone of them had changed, as it would considering the changes in her life. Now she was dreaming about her father, about fearing for his life, and her own, instead of remembering her mother's death.

Just the thought renewed the pain, and she wept bitterly into her pillow, trying to breathe.

And then there was a knock at her door.

"Are you alright, Miss Gregory?"

The words were soft, promising only sympathy.

"I'm fine," she said, her voice cracking. Andrea was usually there to soothe the nightmares away. And before Andrea, her father.

Her father.

"Do you want to come up on deck?"

She suddenly recognized the voice. Ned. Curse him. To the devil.

"I'm fine," she repeated, voice brittle and threw herself back onto her back, lifting the pillow to smother any other cries she might have left in her.

She sensed that he stayed there, since there were no footsteps leaning away.

And then, she heard odd shuffling sounds, like someone leaning on the wall and sliding down until they were seated.

She crept from the bed as quietly as possible, peering through the keyhole.

Ned had slid to the ground outside her door, looking tired, arms folded.

"I'm not here to watch you," he said. "Not really. Not to keep you imprisoned, at any rate. I...I only wanted to keep you company."

His voice deepened. "I know you're there, Katherine. Waiting on the other side of the door."

She shot back from the keyhole, since at first she thought he was just idly talking, pressing herself against the wood of it.

"I can take you up to see the moon," Ned said. "Your father said you used to do that at night. I wouldn't want you to lose that, if it...helps you sleep."

She crept back to the bed as quietly as possible, crawled in and pulled the thin blankets up; pressed the pillow to her ears. She didn't want to hear his voice. She didn't want to let it sway her.

Because she'd almost said yes to his query.

Do you want to come up on deck?

Yes. Yes, I do.

* * *

Weariness seemed to settle into every one of Jim's bones as he woke up, slumped over his desk with a crick...everywhere.

He stood up, trying to shake off the lethargy and stiffness. Devil take him, he shouldn't have stayed at his desk for so long but he knew that he wouldn't have slept in bed. He wondered if lack of sleep or sleep of that kind of quality was worse for a body.

He went to his washstand, throwing water on his face and wiping it with a towel, looking at himself in the mirror above it. He looked like misery itself. His eyes had dark shadows beneath them and he looked like he hadn't slept in days. Or ever.

He left his cabin, going out on deck. It was early. Very early. The sun was only just beginning to peep over the horizon and none of his crew were fully awake anymore. He looked up to the crow's nest and saw that even Jamison was snoozing a little.

Well, Jim would let him. He could watch the horizon now.

He stretched his arms above his head, trying to breathe the day in, moving about and going all over the ship (he couldn't call it his ship) to check every corner. All was peaceful. He got some sleepy nods from his crew, but they recognized his weariness and didn't say a thing; and most of them were going off to sleep as their shift had ended anyway so no one was in a mood to talk.

He felt life seep into his veins as the sun rose, pounding down gracious rays to his needful skin.

He needed this. He closed his eyes, standing at the rail, grasping it tight with strong hands...

 _"Jimmy, I'm so glad that you decided to come along with me," Dan spoke, clapping a hand on his shoulder._

 _"I never thought I would like sea travel so much," Jim admitted, as he looked out on the ocean in front of him._

 _"Well, after all, it's still only your first day," Dan said. "We're going to have a time of it, Jim. We're going to see the world; conquer the sea." He grinned. "How's your friend doing?"_

 _"Well, we only met yesterday," Jim reminded. "But he looked fine. He was sleeping."_

 _"Still?" Dan said. "I'm going to have to put him to work. Actually, Jim, we're a little short on men. Maybe you'd be willing to do some work too?"_

 _"Of course," Jim said, eagerness in his voice. Anything to help his beloved, idolized older brother. "After all, I can't be your doctor all the time."_

 _"No, you can't," Dan chuckled._

 _"I'm willing to do any honest work you'll give me," Jim said, voice light, not thinking that his words would be any problem._

 _Dan's eyes darkened, but Jim, too intent on the beauty in front of him, didn't notice._

 _"Aye," he_ said, _and clapped Jim's shoulder again. "Now go wake that Ned up. It's time for the day to begin."_

Jim heard voices behind him and jerked out his reverie, realizing that he'd actually been dozing at the rail. Turning around, he saw an unexpected sight: Jamison. Arguing.

Jamison was a very pacifistic man. It was very hard to make him angry about anything, let alone rise a fight with him.

And yet, there he was, talking with...Jim searched his mind. Andrea.

Jim walked forward.

* * *

"All I want is to know why the kitchen is locked," Andrea said. "The captain's sister was sick in the night and needed broth to settle her stomach, which I have always been able to make before, but last night the doors were locked."

"It's a habit," Jamison said, the dialects in his voice making Andrea shiver a little. He seemed to speak of distant shores; of a family, a people she'd never gotten to know. "A safe one. Pirates are a ragtag bunch. It doesn't do to trust them too much."

"I only barely coaxed her back," Andrea said, folding her arms in return. "Where's your captain?"

Jamison raised an eyebrow at her, and then tilted his head.

Andrea followed his gaze to the rail, where Captain Clancy was just turning and walking over to them.

"Captain Gregory's sister was sick in the night," Andrea said, charging forward. "For fits like that I usually heat a bit of broth and it helps settle her immensely but the door was locked last night."

"It is only a safety measure," Captain Clancy soothed. "If you wish, I can give you charge of the key during the night."

She blinked, utterly shocked that he'd offer this. "Pardon?"

"It would not do for her life to be endangered, and I don't want you to have to wake someone up or risk distracting them at watch," Captain Clancy continued. "I will give you the key myself tonight, provided you give me your word that you will not misuse your control."

"Of course I won't," Andrea said immediately.

"Then we are settled," Captain Clancy said, smiling a little at her. "Your dedication to..."

"Mrs. Ophelia Lockport," Andrea said.

"Mrs. Lockport is very admirable," he said, nodding at her introduction. "As it is, I believe Mr. Flaherty should have the kitchens open by now and I give you leave to wend your way there and get whatever you need."

"Thank you," she said. "Captain."

* * *

He nodded at her words, and Jamison was pleased to see that the words weren't as jarring for his new Captain as they once had been.

"You are too easy a man," Jamison said, shaking his head as Andrea walked away, head held high. What spirit she had.

"You say that like it's a good thing," Jim said.

"It isn't, most of the time," Jamison admitted. "I'd rather serve a man that I could protect than a man who needs nothing from anyone and cedes nothing to anyone."

Jim looked at Jamison, eyes clear in the morning light. "Like Dan?"

Jamison chuckled. "Well, your brother was different. He asked for help, every minute. He pleaded for friendship, for life and everything good that life could bring him, even while being ruthlessly self sufficient." He nodded his head. "Your brother was both easy to please and impossible to make satisfied. You have almost nothing of him in you, Captain."

Jim bit his lip. "You say that like it's a good thing," he said again, eyes darting away from Jamison.

"Even I can admit the truth," Jamison said simply and left his captain standing there, lost for words.

* * *

Melinda eventually made her way up on deck, hugging her arms around herself, not looking around her.

She didn't want to see the people there, the men who were not as disreputable as they should have been. The men who largely ignored her, instead of leering and being easy to hate. The men who had a job to do and did it.

Her hair was tangled, puffed out by the sea air. She drew close to the rail; the water was calm and she didn't fear a wave.

She kept her ears tuned, wondering and hoping that Captain Clancy would approach her. Wouldn't. She scolded her mind for thinking such words. Of course she hoped he wouldn't come over.

Why would she want to see him? To speak to him? To gaze up at him so long that her neck got sore from trying?

She licked her lips, tasting salt.

And then she heard footsteps behind her and whirled around, ready to fight, but Ned stood there.

"How is Katie?" She blurted, one thought coming into her mind when she spied him. "Are you still the one guarding her?"

"Aye, I am," he said, smiling cautiously at her. "I took her breakfast and I believe she actually ate it."

"Thank god," Melinda said, sagging against the rail that was now behind her.

"I was a little worried about that myself, yesterday," he said. "Miss Andrea had to go in there with her."

Melinda almost smiled. "At least Andrea is dedicated to her mistress."

"I am keeping a close watch on her," he said. "And if she'd let me I'd even make sure she isn't too lonely but she's not permitting that."

"I probably would," Melinda said. "I wouldn't be able to keep my mind busy enough to survive without talking to someone. Even you."

Ned chuckled. "Maybe you'll both find that I'm no monster," he said amiably, not taking offense at her candid words.

"You're a pirate, isn't it the same thing?" She asked easily.

"For some pirates, yes," Ned said, smile falling away, hands shoving into pockets. "Some pirates would think nothing of going in there with Katie and robbing her of any dignity she had left. Some pirate captains would have made her and her father and his whole crew walk the plank the instant they boarded. And some pirate captains would not tolerate having false accusations being hurled at them all the day. Jim...Captain Clancy isn't one of them."

Melinda shook her head. "He's your captain, of course you think so."

"He wasn't always my captain," Ned said baldly. "Once he was just my friend."

With that, he slipped away from her, leaving her alone at the rail.

She suddenly spotted Delia, slipping onto deck and immediately turning left.

Heading to the kitchens, no doubt.

Melinda didn't even recognize her friend.

She turned and started down the stairs to the lower decks, not heeding the warning glance that Jamison shot at her, high on his post above her.

She walked among the working pirates, seeing men repairing nets and sharpening knives that made her shiver; more at the harsh scraping sounds.

Her skirts were swirling about her legs, being lifted by a strong wind, which whipped at her hair, tossing it about her face.

And then she turned around, sensing something, the sun beating down on her, lifting her eyes to the deck above her.

Captain Clancy stood there, just watching her, tall and strong in the sunlight; wind whipped at his clothes also, and Melinda, almost unconsciously, started to move towards him, gravitating to him without even realizing it.

His pull on her was already that strong, but Melinda wouldn't even let herself admit to it as she walked up the stairs, clinging to the rail beside her.

And Captain Clancy was there, standing right in front of her, blue eyes light and steady as he looked at her.

She felt his eyes travel over her and permitted her own eyes to do the same to him, lighting on his arms, as always, and being caught by the unshavenness of his cheeks. He'd been cleanshaven yesterday, but there was now a layer of stubble on his cheeks, the sight of which made her swallow; it made him seem more masculine. It made feelings stir, deep in her belly. It made her want to move closer, see if it was as rough as it looked.

"Did you sleep well, Miss Gordon?" He asked, after a long moment of silence for both of them.

"Yes," she breathed, lowering her gaze from his face, letting it catch on his arms again. "No thanks to you."

And with that, she threw herself at the door below decks and disappeared.


	7. Chapter 7

The next few days slid by, in a haze of sunshine and rain, with the occupants of the ship slowly growing accustomed to their situation.

Jim surveyed his passengers one morning and found that, while Melinda was avoiding his gaze like it carried the plague, she didn't have a glare poised on her lovely face; it was unmarred by anger.

He sighed, leaning on the rail. Yet things were just as worrying as before. Could he make it to Jamaica without incident?

Miss Gregory was still locked up; for good behavior he was considering letting her out tomorrow.

He stretched to standing, shifting his shoulders out, feeling stiffness there. Last night he'd actually managed a few hours of sleep; lulled to a false sense of peacefulness by the swing of the waves and the knowledge that Jamison was on watch that night.

He moved around the deck then, going to the helm and checking their direction. God help him, he was no navigator. He needed Jamison for that too.

* * *

Melinda felt the heat of the day manifest itself in a sticky discomfort. She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling the dampness of sweat in all sorts of places...her bosom, droplets trickled down her back, her legs were sticking together even through her bloomers.

This weather was not habitable.

She wished for rain, but upon voicing that wish Ned had shook his head. "I'd be afraid of what rain brought with it, in this heat," he said. "It'd likely be a violent storm."

And Melinda could live without that. They'd been lucky so far; the only real storm they'd encountered was the one the night Captain Clancy took control of the Jennifer II and that had been overshadowed by the storm of human emotions.

She shook her head, heading back below deck, only wishing to peel the clothing from her sticky, uncomfortable body.

If Jamaica was this hot...good god, she'd never survive it.

* * *

Jamison looked sideways at the woman standing next to him, eyes narrowing. "You were permitted into the kitchens without guard at night," he said, folding his arms.

"So you think that Mrs. Lockport only needs broth in the night?" Andrea scoffed. "Please, Mr. Jamison, stand aside so I may fetch what I need."

"Just Jamison," he said dismissively.

A smile curled at her mouth for a moment before disappearing rather decisively. "Alright, just Jamison. Let me pass."

"I don't wish to," he said. "Because then you will go back below decks and I shan't be able to admire you any longer."

Her mouth gaped open; he'd finally surprised this woman.

"Well, why would you want to?" She scoffed.

"The sight of beautiful woman is to be treasured on these seas," Jamison merely murmured, and finally stepped aside...but not quite enough.

She glanced at him, eyebrow raised, and then slid by him, her body brushing against his.

By god, it wasn't a gentlemanly thing to do, but Jamison had never been so thankful that he was a pirate and not a gentleman.

* * *

Delia looked up and Tim's face was right there, surprising her. "Sample this one," he urged.

They were hidden away, on the area behind the kitchen where the kitchen master threw his scraps away.

There was a perch there, which they were huddled on, holding tight to the ship and each other.

Delia had never thought she'd have this with anyone.

"You need to stop making me sweets," she whispered, taking the piece of shortbread from his fingers. "I'm going to lose my figure."

"Delia, your figure can only be improved upon," he murmured back, handing her another piece. "Besides, a lady so sweet deserves food as wonderful as herself."

"You're a foolish man to fall for me," Delia said quietly.

"Nay, I'm wise," he said, tilting her chin up.

The next piece of shortbread emboldened Delia and she reached out to take it from his fingers with her mouth.

Tim's face darkened as she did so, breathing out a little when the heat of her breath touched his fingers.

"Aye, darlin', if you aren't careful I might steal a taste of that sweet," he said.

"How could it be stealing when you made them?" Delia asked innocently, before realization dawned. "Oh."

"Indeed," he said.

"It still wouldn't be stealing," she said, folding her arms and unfolding them to reach out to him. "Because you can't steal something freely given."

And Tim finally got a taste.

* * *

As the afternoon dragged on, Melinda lay on her bed, stripped to only her petticoats and chemise.

Delia was gone, who knew where. She hadn't seen her older friend in hours and didn't expect to see her again until nightfall. Mr. Flaherty had completely romanced her.

Melinda frowned at the realization that, if they grew even closer, Delia might not even return at night.

She closed her eyes against the thought, the afternoon sunshine leaking through the curtained porthole and forcing her awake again.

She stood up, grabbed a robe and slipped it over her undergarments. She highly doubted that anyone would be below decks at this time anyway, but she wanted to go talk to Katie. She didn't want her to be alone all day.

She slipped from the room, wending her way through the corridors with silent, bare feet.

She heard voices before she got there and paused, stopping herself around the corner from the cabin chosen for Katie's prison.

"Katie, I brought you something for noonday meal," Ned was saying. "Why did you block the door?"

"I'm not hungry right now," came the muffled sound of Katie's voice.

Melinda felt for her, heart aching, but turned away. She'd go back later when Katie was alone; she didn't want Ned seeing her like this and reporting back to Captain Clancy.

A huge clap of thunder split the air, coupled with a toss of the waves.

The storm that Ned had feared was upon them.

Melinda stumbled back along the corridors, not minding her state of undress (she'd appeared in her robe before; this was no different) and poked her head above deck.

The sea was in turmoil, ugly and menacing when only moments before there was only tranquility to be seen on the waves.

A flash of lightning split the sky, making Melinda jump back, before charging fully onto the deck.

Where was Delia?

Melinda wasn't scared of being alone but she was worried as to where Delia might be, pushing herself forward and trying to keep her balance on the tossing waves.

The sea was quickly growing wilder, the sky above was in obvious turmoil, breaking and cracking with thunder and lightning.

Melinda pressed herself against the wall of the ship as one more crack of thunder seemed to shake the sea to its depths.

The rain started to pour down, pounding hard onto her vulnerable body. The heat of the day was gone almost instantly, leaving Melinda chilled to her core.

Changing her mind, deciding that Delia was probably safe with Mr. Flaherty, she turned around, slipping on the suddenly lethal deck.

She regained balance after a moment, only barely clinging to a small ridge in the woodwork on the side of the ship.

She was soaked.

She could vaguely hear shouts around her but no one seemed to have noticed her; be paying attention to her. She thought she could see Jamison at the helm of the ship; no one else was quite so tall or muscular.

She fought onward, trying to get back to her cabin but she could barely move for fear that she'd be swept off the deck into the roiling sea.

Her feet again slid, and she let out a whimper as her hands were dragged from her tenuous hold.

She was slammed into the upper deck's rail, feeling all breath whoosh from her lungs in one hit.

She couldn't breathe, from that, and from being soaked. The water was everywhere; she felt like she was drowning, losing grip.

She heard more shouts, dulling registering that she was losing a fight with gravity. The ship was tipping and she had an ominous thought that she might not be able to hold onto the rail if it tipped more.

She heard the pound of boots, staring at the world around her, trying to move herself; trying to save her life.

And then she was knocked to the ground by a warm body, by muscle and sinew, by a living and breathing man.

Captain James Clancy.

He put his arms around her to brace the fall, and his leg hit the deck before any of her did. All she knew was that one moment she was about to lose herself to the sea, and the next his arms were tight around her, pressing her into the deck...and keeping her safe.

She could feel her breasts flatten against his chest; she could feel that her legs were trapped by his on either side. She could feel his arms on either side of her, protecting her, weighing her down.

She managed to move her head to look up at him but as her head was against his chest, more or less, she found that rather difficult.

"Why on earth were you on deck?" He asked, and she could feel the rumble of the words start in his chest and travel up.

"I was looking for Delia," she told him. "I was afraid for her. She's not in our cabin and I…"

She trailed off.

"She's safe," he said, voice sounding like he didn't disapprove of her so much now that he knew her reasons. "Mr. Flaherty will take care of her."

"You aren't steering the ship," she said, almost shouting to be heard over the pour of the rain.

She could feel his legs shift, one muscular thigh suddenly wedged in between her slim ones. She stifled something that was dreadfully like a gasp, not wanting to react to his closeness.

"Jamison is the better choice at that," he called back, bending his head a little to be heard.

She shifted her head again, becoming more cognizant of where exactly she was pressed...and to what.

He was wearing a coat over his white shirt, but said white shirt had come open; she was suddenly, vibrantly aware of the fact that her forehead was pressed into his bare skin. Her lips parted, wondering what they were touching.

She quietly catalogued each body part, his and hers. Her breasts were now against his stomach, protesting against his weight; she could feel that her robe had untied itself and her breasts were jutting above the neckline of her chemise and corset; she was almost naked next to this man.

She felt her breathing quicken at the realization, heart in her throat at what he'd say when he noticed, when he finally rose off of her.

She realized, terrifying, that she was almost looking forward to what the look on his face might be when he noticed it.

She could not let herself do this. She'd never been a hopeless romantic; she'd never swooned over tales of outlaws and wished to get herself kidnapped just for romance.

But here on the deck, with James Clancy's body pressing on to hers, she was recognizing emotions that she'd only rarely felt.

She couldn't hold back the second gasp that rose up when he shifted and a button on his coat seemed to brush against her nipple, almost hurting it, but a different response was rising when he quickly moved again, as if thinking her uncomfortable: desire.

Her chest's rise and fall was rapidly increasing, and she could barely breathe suddenly, though he was being careful to not press too much of his weight into her body.

And then the sea calmed, in almost an instant. They'd ridden out the storm.

Melinda felt relief to the bottom of her heart that they hadn't perished in the storm...all of them.

Captain Clancy was moving off of her, slowly and carefully to avoid pressing on her unduly and his eyes passed over her body, to make sure that she was alright, as he rose up.

As she'd suspected, her breasts were almost completely exposed, jutting above her chemise; only emphasized by her corset. The robe was completely untied, covering nothing, and her petticoats were sticking to her legs most scandalously, hiding none of their lithe shape.

She could feel his gaze travel over her body, slower this time, really looking, and she hurriedly started to sit up, unwittingly emphasizing her breasts even more.

She could feel his eyes catch there; she could feel her nipples pebble as if in response to his gaze, and she couldn't breathe from the look in his eyes.

* * *

So Melinda Gordon was what he'd always thought and hoped: not a hoyden, but a water sprite.

Her body underneath his was unbelievably soft and giving. He felt himself swell in reaction to her proximity, trying to force it away and not embarrass both of them, but it seemed to only grow, especially when he caught the sound of a gasp from her mouth as he shifted over her, trying to relieve discomfort.

His mind momentarily travelled back a few moments, to when he'd been surveying the deck to make certain that all was well and his eyes had caught a flash of white; the surge of panic that powered his legs up and onward, the curse he'd bitten back upon spying Melinda and the way his body had jumped to her side, sheltering her body as he forced her to the deck, keeping her safe and sound.

And then those few, precious moments a top her, feeling her breathe, feeling her body's pulse and her movements beneath him.

How he'd begun to swell so alarmingly he'd had to pull himself back, wedging his knee between hers so that she couldn't feel it, and how that had almost been worse; the sensation of her legs cradling any part of him had been almost too much to bear, especially considering what she thought of him and the likelihood of ever being this close to her again.

And now, as he pulled away from her, as her body was revealed to him, flushed and nubile, with wrinkles on her exposed breasts from where the material of his shirt had pressed into them...he couldn't tolerate the thought of never being this close again.

He'd fallen in love, he realized, knowing that this was no mere lust. Lust he'd always been able to take care of. He'd always been able to dismiss a pretty girl.

But Melinda...was it because of the hole in his heart since Dan's death? Was that why he clung onto her, in every way, so fiercely? Was it only because he now felt a driven need to protect all in his care, as he'd been unable to protect Dan?

She was staring up at him, and he swallowed, gaze caught on the swell of her breasts.

She was trying to get to her feet, but her petticoats (oh god, she might as well be naked) were clinging to her legs and making that a hard task.

Jim, almost without thinking, reached out, grasped her waist, made her gasp in outrage as he towed them both to standing, situating her in front of him.

She looked anywhere but him as she tied her robe.

He realized he loved that robe, for its capacity to come undone in his presence.

She probably hated him even more now, he realized, considering the woman in front of him. He wanted to scold her.

He should scold her. She had done something reckless and she could have died, and Jim's heart would never have survived that blow.

Yet she'd been looking for Delia. She'd been alone, but worried for her friend, who wasn't alone.

Jim took hold of her arm, towing her back to the doors leading below deck.

"I ask that you don't come above deck next time there's a storm like that," he said, voice rougher than he intended.

"Of course," she said, eyes piercing him, traveling over him.

* * *

The first moment he heard thunder crack, Ned hadn't panicked. After all, they'd been watching the clouds all day. They couldn't avoid the storm but they'd prepared to ride it out and he had no doubt that they'd be fine.

It was only after the lightning came and the boat started to rock that he thought of Katie, locked in an airless cabin, and rushed down below deck to see her.

"Miss Gregory!" He called, pounding at the door. "Are you alright?"

No answer. He took his key and unlocked it, not waiting for her permission.

The first thing he saw was an empty food tray. Thank god; she'd eaten at least.

And the next thing he saw was Katie huddled in a corner of the bed, against the wall.

"You don't like storms?" He asked. "Even having grown up on a boat?"

"I have good reason," she said, lips trembling.

He moved into the room, and she'd just looked up at him, terror on every part of her face.

Another clap of thunder.

Katie cried out and flung herself at him, startling him beyond measure, throwing her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest, hiding herself from the world.

She felt so fragile now, delicate and precious.

He rubbed his hands over her back, trying to soothe her, feeling her slim body beneath him, but sympathy for her kept desire at bay...mostly.

She clung to him, like he was quite literally her shelter in this storm, and he held on tight to her, as the sea tossed and turned, whipping the boat up and down, almost throwing Ned against the wall once but Katie needed him to be steady at this moment and he was going to stay solid, rock hard.

He was a man that wouldn't be moved, no matter how the waves tossed and turned.

She was shaking against him, and he gradually sank to the floor, permitting her shaky legs to rest; she was unable to stand any longer even with him.

And then, under the thunder, he grew cognizant of another sound.

Katie was crying.

"What is it?" He asked, voice worried. "I'm sorry, do you not actually want me here?"

"I can't stand this," she wept. "I can't. I'll go mad."

"The storm?" He asked, tipping her face up so he could look her in the eyes.

Her delicate face was filled with agony. "My mother died in a storm like this," she whispered. "Swept overboard after…"

Sobs choked her and she clung to him.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, rocking her back and forth. "Let it out," he whispered.

"I was...I was on deck when it struck, Father was distracted," Katie said, her tears halting her progress but she managed to push on, get the words out. "I was almost swept overboard. I remember the terror. I felt like I was drowning. My life was being sucked away and I was so terrified and then Mama was there, grabbing me, and we...we were both swept over."

Ned stayed quiet, not sure how this story could end, his heart frozen for this poor girl.

"A wave swept me back on board; I still don't recall how," Katie whimpered, her hands digging into him as another wave shook the boat violently. "And I was well. I was saved but my mother was not. She was gone. And it...it was my fault. My fault that Father couldn't say goodbye. My fault that she'd never sing me to sleep again."

She crumpled against him, giving into every dark memory and emotion.

Ned forced her head up. "It wasn't," he said fiercely. "How could it be? Were you allowed to play on deck?"

"Well, of course," she managed to say, hiccuping a little.

"Without being watched?" He asked.

"Usually," she said.

"And no one had told you to go in?" He questioned.

"No," she said, shaking her head, her face flushed.

He was distracting her, he realized, and that wasn't even his point.

"Then how was it your fault?" He asked. "Your mother made a choice to save your life. Believe me, she had a right to make that choice, to weigh the options. She chose you, Katie. And that's a beautiful thing, not a cursed one. It was sad, tragic, horrible, but your fault?"

He found his handkerchief and began to wipe away her tears, rough fingers brushing over the tender skin of her face.

"Never," he said, voice gentle. "Not your fault."

Her tears had stopped, and she was staring at him in amazement. "But...my father blames me. I know he does."

"He can't," Ned said, and pulled her closer.

The storm was passing.

She slowly pushed away from him, flattening her hands on his chest, standing up. He moved to his feet with her.

She was tall, nearing his height, which was, admittedly, not that hard to be.

"I'm sorry that you lost her," he said, seeing the set of her lips as she turned away from him, pacing to the bed.

"So am I," she said, voice stiff.

He turned to leave, not wanting to stay around if it would bring her discomfort again.

"Wait," she said, as he bent to get the tray and make his exit.

"What?" He wondered, turning his head back to see her.

Her lips moved; she wet them, nervous. "Could you...could you take me up on deck tonight? I want to see the stars."

His heart pounded painfully in his chest and he almost ran back to her, pulled her into his arms, swung her around and around until she laughed for joy.

Except she wouldn't. She'd punch him in the face.

"I'll come back later," he said, nodding. "When no one will see you."

She nodded back, and a slow smile came to her face. It was like dawn after a long, bitter night. It was like seeing the sun for the first time; or the first crocus of spring.

Ned's breath utterly left him to see her smile.

He wondered how much more it might affect him if he ever saw her laugh.

* * *

The night was still, and the deck had almost dried when Ned brought Katie up on deck. The world was silent, hushed around them as he led her by the hand into the cool night air.

It was like the sea was calmer than usual in apology, sad for its violent actions earlier, repentant that it had cost so many their lives.

He led Katie on deck, let her go to the rail, folded his arms and just watched her move about, as if she was breathing for the first time since Cap'n had had to imprison her.

She darted around the deck, steps as light as a dancer's. She had such grace to her.

* * *

Katie glimpsed at the boy...man...who'd accompanied her on deck. She felt her heart skip a beat at the seriousness in his stance, in the darkness of his green eyes.

She remember his arms earlier, how she'd actually felt safe in them, safe for the first time since her mother had lost her life on this very boat.

Katie was a child of the sea, there was no doubt about it. She, like her father, would not be able to bear absence from the water; would not be able to bear being parted from the salt in the air and the slap of the waves.

But my god, she could live forever happily without ever witnessing another storm again. It frightened her. It would always terrify her, she surmised.

And yet…

There were moments in Ned's arms that she'd almost been able to not even think of it. When the musk of his scent filled her senses and she forgot that there was a world around her to begin with.

This man would change her life, she was certain of that.

Breathing in the night air, free for the first time in so long, Katie realized that he already had.


	8. Chapter 8

The new day dawned. Jim woke up feeling almost human, finding himself actually on the bed; astounded that he'd actually fallen asleep there. Memories of last night flooded his mind, and he remembered the storm of the night before...the storm of wind and rain, and the storm in his heart when he'd held Melinda so closely.

The exhaustion from being up on deck and getting batted around by the wind and rain must have tired his body enough to override his mind's refusal to sleep, he reflected. And something else. More than just exhaustion, since he'd had more than his fair share of that without sleep coming.

Peace. He remembered, his body and mind together, the feel of Melinda's body beneath his. Something inside of his chest seemed to loosen, some of the tight threads that had been holding his heart together after Dan's death. He felt calm. The very memory of Melinda brought only joy to his mind, soothing him, making him feel like if he closed his eyes he'd be able to sleep again, sleep for hours and days until he was finally rested and well.

But as he lay there, on the verge of total surrender to sleep again, feeling his eyelids droop and his body sink back into the bed, he heard shouts.

Even that wasn't enough to rouse him. More than likely someone had fallen overboard; the men could take care of that. Maybe Ned had let Katie out per Jim's instructions and she'd tried something again. They could take care of it.

His tired mind said to let Katie do it. There was a thunder of footsteps and then Ned burst into the cabin, breathing hard. "Cap'n," he panted. "You need to get up on deck." He stammered the words, struggling to get them out, but the next word he spoke so clearly that the blood in Jim's veins seemed to chill. "Pirates."

* * *

Ned's thoughts were on Katie. Locked down below, he shuddered to think what pirates might do to her if they discovered her like that. They'd probably make assumptions and decide she was a whore to take. She'd be raped. Raped and worse.

Ned would die before he let that happen.

Jim was stumbling from his bed, looking a bit lost and definitely exhausted. This hadn't been part of his plan, Ned knew. Pirates were not part of the equation of getting to Jamaica safely.

Ned darted from the cabin, unable or unwilling to wait for Jim longer, realizing that his captain had actually been sleeping...Ned regretted that he'd had to wake him, that it was needed even more so.

He spied Jamison, up high, steering the ship away from the pirates. On the horizon, the ship was still steadily advancing on them, much faster than the simple Jennifer II could ever be; the same reason that they'd been able to take the ship was the same reason they'd be trapped by another ship now. The Jolly Roger flag was rippling proudly and ominously high up on the other ship.

Ned was frantic as he went below, almost colliding with Andrea, who was waiting there.

"What's happening?" She asked, begging for an answer.

"Pirates," he panted. "Real pirates. Not us."

Andrea hurried after him. "What do you mean, real pirates?"

"I mean bloodthirsty men who destroy every ship in their sights for the fun of it, and rape all women found on board," Ned said, tearing down the corridors.

"So what are you doing? What is your grand strategy?" Andrea asked, easily keeping pace with him; after all, she was at least as tall as him, if not taller.

"I'm not leaving Katie locked up in there, I can't even stand the thought of what they'd do to her if they found her like that," Ned said.

He sensed Andrea hesitate and then she made a rather choked sound.

"Miss Andrea?" He asked, startled.

"You really love her, don't you?" She asked, eyes misty.

Ned didn't, however, hesitate as she had. "Yes," he said, meeting her teary eyes. "I truly do. I have never met someone with her spirit or fortitude. I only wish to help her now. I need nothing in return."

"She needs you," Andrea said simply, seriously. "She's needed someone like you for a very long time."

"She needs you," Ned replied, trying to dismiss her words. "I'm going to let her out and take her back to your cabin. Block the door, Miss Andrea. Don't let anyone in." He didn't look at her, not wanting to know what she'd be able to read in his panicked words. He reached the door to where Katie was locked up and unlocked it, swinging it open unceremoniously.

Katie stood there, wide eyed, arms tight around herself, in a state of undress that went unnoticed by no one.

"Ned!" She exclaimed, her arms falling away. She wore a lacy nightgown. Ned couldn't even appreciate it from the fear he felt at what another man would do to her if he found her thusly.

"There's no time to talk," he said, hurrying into the room and scooping her into his arms, surmising that it would be faster.

As harried as his mind was, he fully registered how good it felt, how right this was for him to be holding her. She settled into his arms, putting her arms around his neck. "What's happening?" She whispered, lips so close to his ear that he stumbled.

"Pirates," he said grimly.

Her mouth fell open; she noticed Andrea in the doorway. "What will we do?" She asked. "What can we do?" She clung tighter to Ned as he walked, carrying her down the corridors with Andrea leading the way. "Are we...can we fight them? That is, our...your captain's crew."

His hands slipped on his hold at her thighs, before tightening in a move that they both felt. Katie inhaled sharply, one breast pressed up against his chest; he felt it expand.

We.

She'd said we.

They'd reached Katie's former cabin and Ned lowered her to the ground. "Lock yourselves in," he instructed. "Don't let anyone in or out, God forbid, until Jamison or I or Flaherty come to tell you it is safe."

He turned to go, feeling his breathing only quicken. "Ned," Katie cried, grabbing his arm before he was out of her reach.

"What, Katie?" He asked, whirling back to face her, heart leaping.

She hesitated, her mouth open, lips parted, arms reaching out to him, fingers clamped on his sleeve.

Andrea slipped inside the cabin, letting the door swing halfway shut.

Ned could barely hold Katie's gaze, it felt too good. Too dangerous. Too beautiful.

He stepped closer, throat not working correctly, and he felt like he couldn't speak. Her hand moved up his arm and he felt his skin tingle as she touched it; his pulse was thundering in his ears.

"Come back to me," Katie whispered, begging him. "Please. You have to."

"My god, Katie," he murmured, and pulled her into his arms.

Their lips met and he was stunned by her sweetness, by her responsiveness, by the crush of her body against him and the taste of her lips under his.

He felt like he could have stood there for hours, just kissing her. He felt like it was hours, he felt like time stopped as his hands moved up and down her body, cupped her face, rested on her shoulders, slid down to her slim hips.

And then she pulled away, starry eyed and flushed, before worry settled on her face again.

"I mean it," she said, catching hold of his shirt again as he tried to pull away. "Promise."

"I'll come back to you," he swore. "Nothing could stop me."

She nodded, biting her lip, before slipping inside the cabin. He waited until he heard the door lock and furniture pushed in front of it before he dared to leave.

* * *

Jim watched in horror as the ship advanced, his crew in a frenzy around him, dashing to positions.

The Jennifer II had only five cannons, and none were of the best working order. Their guns were depleted and it would surely come to hand to hand combat.

Speaking from experience, Jim knew how easy it would be to board this ship. He couldn't believe that he'd let this worry slip from his mind, that he hadn't gone to more hard to travel areas to ensure their solitude and safety.

They would be boarded, he knew it. They had no chance of driving them away before it came to that, and it depended on the crew faced to see whether they'd be able to beat these men.

His crew...Dan's crew...was well put together. Every man pulled his weight and knew what he was doing. But they weren't the most skilled fighters in the world, or the sea. If this ship approaching them was as bloodthirsty as Jim feared, he knew that they wouldn't stand a chance.

And only a depraved crew would attack a ship like this.

Or a crew like his own, desperate and about to lose their own ship.

Jim didn't like either option. Besides, this ship was in too good repair for the second to be a worry. Jim knew he shared nothing in common with this pirate crew beyond their choice of ships to board.

Jamison was steering the ship away, making valiant efforts to catch enough wind to carry them far away from the other ship, but Jim and everyone else knew that it would be useless.

He saw Ned emerge on deck and gestured for him to come to his side.

"Did you take care of things below?" He asked.

"I moved Katie...Miss Gregory...back to her old quarters; she and Miss Andrea are barring the door and won't open it until we say so," Ned said.

"And Misses Banks and Gordon?" Jim asked, feeling his throat jump over the word Gordon.

"I saw Flaherty earlier and he said he'd take care of it," Ned said.

Jim nodded, satisfied. He trusted Flaherty to get them both to safety. Maybe he'd shut them in the kitchen.

He stepped along the rail, feeling every bone in his body tense.

"Should we run up our Jolly Roger?" Ned asked softly. "Make a statement? We're going to be boarded anyway. Might as well surprise them first."

Jim chuckled, with no joy in the sound, just dry amusement. "And should I put on my brother's pirate coat?"

"Yes," Jamison said behind them. Jim whirled around to see his first mate standing there; Flaherty was at the wheel. "We need to do everything we can to make them fear us and not take us for fools."

"We are fools," Jim said.

Jamison smiled thinly. "They don't have to know that."

"Go change," Ned said, a hesitant smile on his face. "I'll take care of the flag."

* * *

He was wearing boots that went nearly up to his thighs, emphasizing the muscles in his legs. His coat was the one he'd worn when taking theJennifer II, and he cut a quite impressive figure, all muscles and height and strength.

It wouldn't be enough, he feared, his sword hanging at his side. He was quite possibly the worst sword fighter you could meet and his only chance was to not have to draw his sword in the first place.

He stared at himself in the mirror, trying to drum up the courage to go back out there.

A sudden thought came into mind as he looked at one button on his coat; the sun glinted off it and he was caught by the sight, remembering when that same button had pressed against Melinda's skin.

When he'd tied her robe for her the night they met. When he'd helped her up just last night, after being closer to her than he'd ever expected to be again with a woman.

Melinda.

He wouldn't let this happen to her again. He wouldn't let these pirates be...who she thought he'd be.

He wouldn't let himself stand down, not this time, not when last time he'd lost a battle he'd lost far more than that. Dan.

He had to go up there. He had to stand strong, prove himself to Dan and himself, and protect Melinda.

He had to keep her safe.

* * *

The other ship didn't even slow when Ned raised their own Jolly Roger high, letting it flutter in the breeze, replacing the American flag.

"We can't afford a gun powder battle with them; it will injure the ship too much," Jamison said stubbornly. "It did not work so we should not aggravate them further. It is too dangerous. Our only chance is in hand to hand combat. We must let ourselves be boarded."

They heard the click of boots and turned, and Ned could tell that Jamison's heart stopped in that moment, as did his own.

"He looks so like Dan," Jamison whispered. "I thought I was seeing a ghost."

"I felt the exact same," Ned said, heart aching with the sorrow and loss they'd all felt. "The coat...the boots...the walk."

"We might win this thing on Jim's impressive figure alone," Jamison said, before clearing his throat, coming to attention in front of his captain.

* * *

"Ship is in sights, Captain," Jamison said. "We have no choice but to let ourselves be boarded. The use of cannons would lead to irreparable damage to our ships."

"Then let them come," Jim said. "But keep the sails at alert. If they lower their guard and we catch a good wind, we might yet escape them."

Jamison nodded and went to replace Flaherty at the wheel.

Jim spotted Bobby, putting a telescope to one eye.

"Can you read the name on the side?" Jim asked him, hurrying over. "Maybe we knew them. Maybe Dan knew them, was friends with them."

Bobby was lowering the telescope, a horrified look on his face. "We knew them," he said. "Dan especially. It's Captain Payne's ship. The Terre de Roche."

Jim looked at Bobby. "Should I know that name?" He asked.

"You should, considering that it was Dan who stole Captain Payne's wife and impregnated her," Bobby said, face white. "And she died, babe with her, in childbirth."

"My god," Jim said. "We'll never survive this."

"He swore vengeance," Flaherty said, coming up to them, his face as white as Bobby's. "And he's always been a very skilled man with a sword."

He looked at Jim, and Jim could feel everyone's spirits begin to flag.

They couldn't win this thing. Captain Payne would never let Jim, Dan's brother, escape alive.

He had something to do.

* * *

He explained the situation to Captain Gregory, feeling ashamed of himself for asking for help from the man they'd done the same thing to, but Captain Gregory's response was instant: "Use my men," he said, face white. "I can see now that you are not the man I feared you were. Let me out and I will speak to my men, have them work alongside you."

Jim left the cabin, Captain Gregory at his side. He felt Jamison's silence as they went to the hold and Captain Gregory addressed the men there, ordered their compliance and obedience to Jim's orders.

"These men are not who we thought they were," Captain Gregory finished. "They have only been good to us and I don't think any of you will complain about the foodstuffs since they boarded. We must help them."

There was silence from the sailors in the hold, and then they climbed on deck, ready to help. Jim felt like he couldn't breathe from the moment, all these men looking to him to lead them.

This couldn't be happening.

He'd fail them. Surely he would.

* * *

The ship came up alongside them, huge in comparison.

Pirates boarded without delay, and they were soon in the midst of a battle, one that Jim had been expecting but it didn't make it any easier.

He could see his men, from Bobby to Tim, from Captain Gregory to Will; his first mate. To Ned and Jamison fighting side by side.

Jim was faking it, using fancy wrist moves that dazzled his opponents into thinking he had skill, distracting them from the fact that he knew nothing about swordplay.

The battle wasn't going well around them; he could see several downed men and prayed that they weren't dead.

And then the Captain boarded, swinging across and commanding his men's attention without even trying.

The fighting stopped as Captain Payne strode across the deck, all men stopping to stare at him.

He wasn't as tall as Jim, by far, nor as muscular. But there was something to his presence, a chill, a manner of command, that had everyone stop in their tracks.

Jim's opponent fell away, and Jim straightened up, sword clutched tightly in one hand.

He strode forward, forcing himself to think like Dan, be like Dan…

Be a pirate captain.

"I am Captain Richard Payne," Captain Payne introduced himself. "To whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

"I am Captain James Clancy," Jim managed to say. "Daniel's brother."

He wanted to get it out, get it over with. He wasn't going to drag this out.

There was a hiss of breath from Captain Payne; a sound of anger and grief and loss. He whipped his sword out, no longer calm. "Where is your brother?"

"He's dead," Jim said.

"Who felled him?" Captain Payne asked, swordhand never wavering.

"Lucas Roofer," Jim managed.

"I'll have to remember to thank him," Captain Payne said. "But still, I did not get my revenge. I did not take his life for my wife's, as I once vowed." His eyes were cold as he surveyed Jim. "You'll have to do. En garde."

* * *

Pressed into the stairwell as she was, Melinda could barely see any of the fighting.

She wondered where Delia was. She hadn't seen her all day, since the pirates started shouting and running. She'd heard the cry of pirates and she'd been watching ever since, hidden here.

She'd seen Captain Clancy go back to change his clothes, and she'd been hard pressed to not run to him when he'd returned dressed in those pirate clothes. He looked exactly as he had when she'd first met him and she didn't like it. He wasn't that man. She knew that now.

She'd seen him go and fetch Captain Gregory. She'd watched the solemnity of the moment of Captain Gregory begging his men to fight alongside of Jim's, as the only way they'd get through this.

And she'd seen the rest. The battle. The fallen men. How Jamison stayed close to Ned, protecting him. How Captain Clancy was guarded by Flaherty and another; she thought it was Bobby.

How Captain Gregory's men worked in perfect harmony with the pirates. How they all were trying their best.

And now this Captain Payne had boarded, right in the midst of the battle, freezing time as he walked, it seemed.

He was so cold. She couldn't believe how cold he was, how chilled she felt just to look at him.

She frowned when Captain Clancy mentioned a brother, wondering what on earth it could mean.

And then Captain Payne drew his sword.

And attacked.

It was apparent to everyone watching who would win. Captain Clancy's movements were quick but unsure, unsteady, hesitant.

Payne, on the other hand, was an expert. His movements were quick and cruel, showing every hole and mistake in Captain Clancy's movements.

Payne slashed Captain Clancy's arm through his coat, and she clapped a hand to her mouth, moaning as blood seeped from the wound.

Captain Clancy barely managed to graze Payne's face, and Payne, insulted, redoubled his efforts, until Captain Clancy was backed into a corner.

There was a trick move, something Payne did with his wrist.

And then Captain Clancy was disarmed and knocked to the ground, pinned there by a large man in Payne's command.

Payne's boot settled on Captain Clancy's chest.

Melinda felt her heart jump, felt bile rise in her throat. This couldn't be happening. She strained to hear the words, finding her that her feet were moving her forward almost without her wanting them to, driving her on deck.

"Any last words?" Payne drawled, voice cold and carrying.

"I had nothing to do with Dan taking your wife," Captain Clancy explained.

"Are you begging for your life?" Payne asked. "If you do, if you condemn your brother's actions, I might let you live. You'd forfeit your ship, though. And your men."

Captain Clancy stared around him. Melinda could see his eyes travelling over his men, weighing their lives against his.

"I won't," he whispered.

"What?" Payne mocked.

"I won't beg for my life," Captain Clancy said. Melinda saw Ned surge forward, but Jamison was grabbing hold of him, holding the younger man back.

This was Captain Clancy's decision to make, in Jamison's mind.

Not in Melinda's.

"Then I guess you'll die," Payne said. "Trying to be a hero, eh? Your life for your men's? Too bad you won't live to see if I keep that promise."

The tip of his sword pressed into Captain Clancy's chest.

The scream seemed ripped straight from Melinda's heart.

"Don't touch him!"

* * *

He was about to die and he felt almost ready, until he heard Payne's words that he wouldn't vow to keep his men safe.

He thought of Ned and panicked, even as Payne's sword pressed into his chest.

He had to do something. He couldn't let it end like this, not if Payne would keep no promises.

He opened his mouth to speak, say something, do something, when everyone on the boat fell silent.

One voice echoed above everything, one cry.

Melinda.

* * *

Her legs carried her down the stairs, shoving through the pirates and sailors on deck, and they all, dumbfounded, let her pass.

She had no idea what a sight she made, hair curly and down about her shoulders since she hadn't had Delia to help her with putting it up.

She was wearing one of her light cotton dresses, low cut, white, clinging to her figure and making her look like an angel. An angel on a mission.

Payne's sword tip faltered as he looked up at her, not believing his eyes. She lunged forward and pressed it away, landing on Captain Clancy with a grunt, pressing her hands on his chest.

"Don't touch him," Melinda repeated.

"Who are you?" Payne asked, staring at her like she was a vision.

"Melinda Gordon," she said simply.

"What does he mean to you?" Payne asked. "Is he your betrothed? In that case, find a man who isn't a pirate and you'll be much better off."

"He's not my betrothed," Melinda said, voice dry, feeling Captain Clancy struggle beneath her, but his arms were pinned to the ground by one of Payne's men.

She was sitting on his chest and flushed to wonder what kind of view he was getting of her, but she couldn't afford to think of that right now when right now she had to worry about saving his life.

Payne lowered his sword, still just staring, eyes sweeping over her, as if still not sure if she was human, real, actually there in front of him.

"Why shouldn't I kill him?" Payne asked.

"Because he doesn't deserve to die," Melinda said, voice shaking. Because I love him, but I can't tell you that before I tell him that.

She felt Captain Clancy struggle again, trying to reach her. "What are you doing, Miss Gordon?"

She reached behind her, placed a hand over his mouth and Payne burst out laughing.

"What an odd romance this is," he said. "You beg me to save his life and then you shut his mouth!"

Captain Clancy was opening his mouth and she pressed her hand harder, gasping when one of her fingers slipped inside and he sucked at it, pulling the digit into his mouth.

She didn't dare turn around.

"Spare his life, and the lives of everyone on this ship," Melinda said, suddenly realizing what she could do, what power she held right now, from the way that Payne was looking at her. From how his eyes couldn't stop staring at her breasts, or her small waist, or how her hips swelled beneath it.

From how white her gown was, to the fine structure of her face, to her deep brown eyes and curly, dishevelled hair down around her shoulders.

"What do you offer me in return?" Payne said, voice lowering.

She tipped her chin up, proud, free. "Myself," she said, voice not shaking.

She felt Captain Clancy jerk beneath her, struggle ever more, twisting his head to free his mouth, but she held harder, as Payne strode forward, boots clicking.

"Stand up," he said, voice breathless.

She did so, hand leaving Captain Clancy's mouth.

"Cover his mouth," Payne said dismissively.

"Melinda," Captain Clancy managed before another man clamped his hand over his mouth.

Melinda inhaled, feeling her chest constrict when he said her name. Was she really doing this? Was she really leaving him behind? She would surely never see him again.

Payne was staring into her face, his gaze so intense that it felt like a burn. He grabbed her wrist, started to pull her forward, leading her towards his ship.

She felt her heart begin to skip beats, feeling like she couldn't breathe, needing one last glimpse of Captain Clancy. Of Jim.

Her Jim.

She turned her head and there he was, straining to get after her, and, in a moment that made no sense to her, he suddenly got away, knocking his captor off balance.

"Melinda!" He screamed, struggling to his feet, trying to run after her but at least three of Payne's men lunged forward to grab him, holding him back, even as Jim tried to run to her, take her back, rescue her from Payne's cruel hold.

"Don't do this!" He begged. "Please, Melinda, don't do this. You can't do this. I'm not worth it."

His voice was turning into a sob. "Melinda."

"Jim," she said, the word slipping past her lips unintentionally but her heart was crying out and wouldn't let her stay silent. "Jim."

She could see him renew his struggles, fight against his captors; she saw Ned start forward and get hit so hard by a sword handle that he fell to the ground.

Payne reached and curled his hand around her waist, pulling her forward.

Her back was to Jim now.

She let tears begin to run down her face, and she couldn't breathe from the intensity of the pain her heart was feeling.

And then Payne's hand was on her face, jerking it up to face him. "You're willing to go with me to save his life," he hissed, voice low. "Why?"

"My heart dictates my actions," she whispered, unable to wipe away her tears because he was holding onto her.

He just stared at her again, as if not believing what he saw in front of him, what he heard come from this woman's mouth.

"Fall back," he said, voice cold. "Incapacitate Captain Clancy. I don't care how you do it."

Melinda cried out as she heard a body slump to the floor behind her.

"I give my word that if no one attacks, we'll leave right now," Payne said.

No one moved.

His pirates started back to his ship. Melinda shuddered as Payne drew her closer and closer to the edge, wondering how he'd take her.

He was the last to go; he waited until everyone had swung back to his ship before turning to face her again.

"He's the most blessed man on earth to have your love," Payne said, voice so quiet she could scarcely hear. "I could not do to another man what one did to me. I could not do to you what a man did to me. Let him know he has you to thank for his life, and his men's lives."

He let her go, shoving her back onto the deck, and she fell to her knees.

He swung across, back to his ship, saluting her once she was across.

And then he was gone.

The ship was gone, sailing away.

A ripple swept the crowd and then a cheer went up.

Melinda stumbled to her feet, turning around. Jim was there, flat on his face on the deck. She could Ned's prone body too.

"There is no time for celebration," she said, her voice somehow carrying. "We need to tend to the wounded."


	9. Chapter 9

The first thing Jamison did was find out how the hell Melinda had gotten on deck in the first place.

"Flaherty, you told Ned you'd take care of Delia and Melinda," he growled, showing rare anger.

His captain's body was limp in his arms, and Bobby was hunched over Ned, examining him.

"No, I thought Ned said he got Melinda," Flaherty stammered. "I put Delia in the kitchen. Oh, curse this thing."

Melinda was standing in the middle of the deck, staring around her.

"Andrea," she said. "And Katie. Where are they?"

"They're in their cabin," Jamison said, starting off towards Jim's cabin without faltering. "Go let them out, Flaherty, and Delia. Maybe one of them knows about nursing."

Jim didn't even stir. Jamison did not like the look of the lump on his head. And Jim was their doctor, or supposed to be.

This was not looking good.

Melinda was running after him, short legs carrying her surprisingly quickly. "How is he?" She gasped.

Jamison looked down at her, realizing that everyone on this ship owed her everything. He didn't know what Payne had said to her; no one had been able to hear that, they'd just watched in horror as he started off with her, and then suddenly he'd cast her back on the deck and pulled away.

"I don't know," Jamison said grimly. "Can you go ahead to his cabin and prepare the bed?"

She nodded instantly, running ahead, throwing the door open and slipping inside.

Jamison followed slower, the weight of Jim slowing his steps.

When he walked into the cabin, Melinda had pulled the blankets back on the bed, so he could lay Jim straight on the white sheets.

"It's his arm," Melinda said. "And his head. Those are his only injuries. He'll be alright, won't he?"

Jamison shook his head. "I cannot assure you of that, Miss Gordon," he said. "Head injuries are strange things. Men can walk around like normal with them and then just die during the night."

"We won't let that happen," Melinda said fiercely.

Jamison started back out of the cabin. "I need to go see to Ned," he said, voice harsher than he intended. "You need to take care of getting his coat and shirt off so we can tend his arm. After I see if Ned is worse off I'll come back to look at his arm. For now, you need to apply pressure to the wound and…" He opened one of the cabinets, finding what he knew would be there; one of Dan's bottles of rum. "Wash the wound with this," he said, handing her the bottle.

* * *

Melinda stared after Jamison, clueless.

She understood why he'd left her alone. He was no doctor and he had to make sure of the others on the ship, but she was alone.

With Jim.

Captain Clancy.

And he'd told her to remove his shirt.

She forced herself to not be a shrinking violet; she had a job to do. She went to the collar on his coat, tugging it away from his neck and letting her hands slide down to his buttons.

Her fingers pressed into the hard buttons, carefully and painstakingly sliding them through each hole; the material of the coat was stiff and it was a bit tricky.

The coat was done being unbuttoned. Melinda carefully pushed the heavy material aside, painstakingly lifting his left muscled arm, heavy from his unconsciousness, and slid it through the material, acutely aware that she was leaning over him; that her breasts were pressed against his chest, in his face.

What would happen if he woke up now?

Why did she want him to?

His left, uninjured arm was free from coat, and she managed to thread her arms around his rock hard midsection to lift him and push the coat underneath him so she could take it off his right arm and jostle the wound there less.

He was heavy. Very heavy. She swallowed, as her arms could only just meet around him. She felt her breath escalate as she pressed into his body, trying to pull the coat through; needing to lift him and move the coat underneath him at the same time.

She was straddling him, she realized, sitting on his stomach as she had earlier, but this was so much different.

She moved off of him, going to the wound on his arm, pulling the coat off his right arm and letting it fall to the floor. There was only his white shirt left, soaked with sweat and, on the arm, blood.

She needed water first. She didn't want to pour rum right on the wound, first she had to get the shirt away.

She grabbed a pitcher; it didn't have much in it but it had enough. She poured it on a rag, soaking it, pressing the cloth to his arm and shoulder and then looking at his shirt. It had no buttons, it went on over the head.

She ran her hands down to the end of it, tucked into his trousers, fingers lighting on his toned stomach there, hesitated.

She couldn't bring herself to tug the material from his waist. She noticed a dagger and used it to slit the shirt, neck to waist, and tried very hard to not look at his bare chest as she tugged the material from his right arm, leaving the rest of the shirt on him.

She couldn't help noticing the planes of his stomach, the hard defined muscles there that seemed as different from her own body as you could get. He was rock hard, in places she was only soft and curving.

The wound was visible. Her hand traced over the muscles in his arm before biting her lip and pouring the rum over it. She wondered if it stung, but he didn't even stir. She used the dagger to cut off a section of shirt and used that to bind his arm.

Then she looked at his head. Using the water dampened rag, she washed his face, looking at the lump and gash on his forehead from where Payne's men had struck him, using the rum to disinfect it. And then she sat back, still, afraid.

He still wasn't even stirring. She didn't know what to make of that.

* * *

She hurried up on deck after a few more moments just sitting there staring at him, admiring him, letting the sight of him take her breath away. He'd had other scars; she'd dared to rub her fingers over one on his chest, not letting her hand drop to touch the flat nipple, though she wanted to.

She instead pulled the covers up over him and hurried back on deck, not sure what else she could do for him and wanting to be useful.

Delia was there, and she ran towards Melinda. "Why did you do it?" She murmured, embracing Melinda tightly, pressing a desperate kiss to her forehead. "You have such a big heart, Melinda, even for your enemies."

"He's not my enemy," Melinda merely said, wondering where Delia had been, clinging to her friend, feeling her legs wobble. "What about Ned?"

Delia sighed. "Come with me," she said.

He was in a makeshift hospital wing of the ship. Most of the pirates and sailors had only sustained minor injuries in the fight; amazingly, the two most serious were Ned and Jim since they were the only ones to get head injuries.

Katie and Andrea were taking care of the wounded, and Melinda felt ashamed that she'd stayed so long with Jim, just lingering over his body when there were others to be taken care of.

"He needs stitches," Jamison solemnly pronounced, looking over Ned. He glanced up to see Melinda there. "You washed Jim's wounds?" He asked, not saying captain.

"I did," Melinda said. "I thought, um, you'd need the help here. He didn't even stir as I...tended to him."

Jamison nodded, looking down at Ned. There was an ugly open gash on his forehead; it had been washed but it was still gaping.

"Which of you is the best seamstress?" Jamison asked, looking at the women around him.

Delia shook her head. "I couldn't keep a steady hand working on him," she said.

Andrea frowned. "I could…"

Melinda also declined, knowing that her sewing samples were nothing special and definitely not any good.

It was then that they realized that Katie had already sterilized a needle and thread in the rum Flaherty had brought in.

"I'll do it," she said firmly, hands steady.

Andrea moved to hold onto Ned's head, and Delia grabbed the boy's hand.

Melinda watched, arms folded, as Katie's needle first pierced Ned's skin. She sewed in tiny stitches, very neat, pulling the skin tightly together, never once wincing or showing fear.

"Nicely done," Jamison praised once Katie had finished.

She cast the needle away. "Can we move him?" She asked, her voice tight. "So I can watch him in peace."

The others there just looked at each other. "Captain Gregory's cabin will be empty," Delia said softly. "It would make sense for Ned to be alone so his nurse doesn't get distracted from him."

Jamison nodded and summoned Bobby to help him pick up Ned. They carried him carefully between them, laying him in the captain's cabin.

Captain Gregory was back in charge, Melinda realized, watching him shout orders on deck. The uninjured pirates and sailors were listening to his orders to the letter, paying him absolute attention.

Katie perched on the edge of the bed, Ned's hand in between both of her own. "May I stay with him?" She asked, voice quiet but steely.

Jamison nodded. "We'll tell everyone to stay back," he nodded. "You both need some peace and quiet."

"But…" Andrea said, and Delia also looked hesitant about leaving them alone.

Jamison just looked at Andrea and she nodded, leaving the cabin. Melinda watched in awe and then grabbed Delia's hand, tugging her out so that Jamison could close the door.

"Flaherty should take Miss Gregory broth later to give to Ned," Jamison told Delia. "You should tell him that. I need to confer with Captain Gregory. Andrea, could you go with Miss Gordon to check on Captain Clancy and see her handiwork?"

"Come along," Melinda said, nodding at Andrea. Andrea followed along after her without a second thought.

* * *

There was a warm weight on his chest, and Ned could feel a hand on his own. He stirred awake, feeling his head ache, and everything else.

But he was alive. Images flashed through his mind and he groaned, trying to sit up.

"Jim," he rasped. "Is he living? And Melinda. Did Payne take her?"

"They're both fine."

He opened his eyes and it was Katie there. He opened his eyes and he was in bed and she was curled next to him, on top of the covers, clinging to one hand, head lifted off of where it had been resting on his chest.

"Katie," he breathed. "You're all right. The pirates...what happened?"

"They're gone," Katie whispered, lifting his hand to her lips and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "Payne left without Melinda."

"Why?" He asked.

Katie shrugged, one shoulder lifting.

She was dressed now, and he wished for the nightgown she'd been wearing earlier, the white lace that left her skin deliciously bare.

"You're beautiful," he whispered.

She pressed his hand into her chest, clinging to him. "So are you," she said, tears in her ears. "The most beautiful man I've ever met."

His hand was caught in hers but that didn't stop him from feeling the press of her breasts against it. He blinked up at her, marveling at this moment, not quite believing it.

"Katie," he whispered, letting his other hand travel up to her face. She leaned into the caress, a smile on her face.

"You came back," she whispered, and let go of his hand, slowly lowering her chest onto his and pressing her lips to his.

Her touch was gentle, as though he was breakable. Ned kissed her back, pouring every ounce of passion into the response, letting his mouth fall open beneath hers, and letting his hands drift down, to her shoulders, to rest there and feel them solid beneath his hands.

His tongue reached out to tangle with hers and she gasped, and Ned pulled back, afraid he'd gone too far but Katie was already moving forward, her tongue slipping into his mouth, making him moan, and he heard Katie's earthy gasp in return, a sound that awoke many more feelings in him.

She was shifting forward, moving to straddle his waist, her skirts riding up.

He could feel her legs tight against him, as she bent over him, lips meeting his, her long hair creating a curtain over their faces, sheltering them from the world.

Ned shifted up, pushing himself to a seated position, needing more control over the embrace. Katie slid down, landing on his arousal, and they both gasped, breaking away, staring at each with wide eyes.

He thought that she'd back away. Maybe he even hoped she would, feeling scared that he'd ruin this somehow.

"Is this how it's supposed to feel?" She murmured, running her hands up his arms, to his face, letting her hips settle onto him, making him moan.

"What, Katie?" He whispered, moving his face nearer to hers, almost capturing her lips.

"Love," Katie whispered back, the obvious joy in her voice startling and pleasing him. "I love you."

"I love you, Katherine Gregory," he managed to say.

Their lips met again, hungry and eager, battling each other now, trying to pleasure the other more than they were being pleasured.

He let his hand slip down, to her waist, and his other hand fell there too, as if drawn. He slid them down, massaging, and then up, daring to cup her breasts.

She gasped as he did so, arching into the touch. Her dress was green, ruffled, with buttons up the back.

As Ned touched her, feeling the weight of her breasts, trying to locate her nipple through the layers, she arched her back, bringing them nearer, and he realized that she was unbuttoning her dress.

His hands joined her there, aiding her in undoing the tiny buttons, until he was able to peel the dress down til it sat at her waist and she was there, free and proud, in a thin white chemise and corset.

Ned leaned forward, his mouth falling to touch her chest, kissing the skin there, feeling drunk on her embrace.

She was moving her hands all over him, clinging to his head, grasping at his back.

He edged the neckline of her chemise down, rolling it over her shoulders.

She made a little sigh in the back of her throat as her nipples were revealed, and Ned stared at the dusky, hard little tips that only seemed to draw him closer; as though they called his name.

He reached behind her and started to pull her laces out, trying to free her even more, until the corset fell away.

She gasped as he did so, breathing hard, raising her glorious breasts higher and they slipped from the chemise's fragile hold on them.

Her gaze darkened as she looked at him looking at her. He leaned to press a kiss to one; the other, and then he tasted her nipples, feeling like he'd die from the intense pressure he was feeling.

She suddenly pulled back, shoving at the material gathered at her waist. "I want to get out of this," she said, meeting his gaze. "All of it."

She moved farther, her gaze traveling his body. "And I feel like you're wearing far too many clothes."

"Where are we?" He suddenly asked, realizing his surroundings.

"My father's cabin, no one is going to come in," Katie said, jumping from the bed and going to the door, slamming a bolt into place. "Especially not now."

* * *

She was being too bold, surprising Ned, he'd surely think of her as loose, like she did this with every cabin boy who kidnapped her.

And then he was peeling his shirt over his head and she wasn't thinking about that anymore. She was thinking about the utter perfection of his muscled arms and back; the way his chest and stomach seemed to ripple with each movement he made.

She shoved her dress down, wiggling it over her hips, taking the chemise with it and she was only in her bloomers now.

Did she dare?

She hooked her thumbs in the fabric at her waist, waiting for Ned to look up again.

He did, his mouth falling open at the sight she made. And then he stood up, leaving the bed, and walked to her.

His arms around her felt like coming home. Being in his embrace, after so long not in it, made her feel like she was coming alive after being dormant for a very long time.

He was hard, everywhere, and all around her. He was moving his hands everywhere, his mouth everywhere.

And then he slid the bloomers over her hips, falling to his knees before her as he did so, until his mouth was at the thatch of curls covering her entrance.

She stared down at him, unsure of what came next. He looked up at her, his eyes wide and promising.

His hands were on her derriere, cupping her there, pulling her to him, and then he stood up, swinging her into his arms and placing her on the bed.

She propped herself up on her arms as he started to undress the rest of the way, shoving his trousers down over his slim hips.

And he was revealed to her.

She lived on a ship, and over the years that had been incidents, times when the sailors had gone swimming and not kept properly clothed. She had...seen things.

But nothing so grand as Ned's.

She hadn't known they could be so large, or so firm.

She whimpered a little as he climbed onto the bed beside her, and he looked at her, worried.

"I won't be too big," he whispered. "I promise."

"I'm not worried about that, I was just admiring you," she said.

She reached out, unable to help herself, bringing him into her hands. He moaned aloud, pulsing in her hand.

She licked her lips, running her hands over him.

"Katie," he whispered.

"Will it feel good?" She asked him, as he lay her back on the bed.

"It will," he said, flushing a little. "I think. The girls...I've been with a few before and...they liked it."

She nodded, feeling very young.

He breathed in, and started to move her legs apart.

"What are you doing now?" She whispered.

"It'll be easier for you if you're more...prepared," he said.

And then he bent his head and placed his mouth inside her.

She almost screamed from the sensation, unable to believe how good this felt, nor how he just seemed to touch something and it shattered her, brought her closer, until she was bucking against him.

"You're so wet," he gasped, pulling away. "So ready."

She nodded, twisting on the bed, seeing him poised to enter her, and pushed herself up to meet him.

It did hurt. There was a pinch and she frowned, this didn't feel right.

And then something moved, changed. There was pain...and then there wasn't.

Then it was just Ned, moving inside her, filling her, like there had been a hole in her all along, just waiting for Ned to come along.

He shifted, pulling out a little and she shook her head. "Go in farther," she gasped. "Please."

He only nodded, concentrating hard.

"Faster," she gasped, pushing her against him, and whimpering from the sensations that brought.

He was grunting, trying, shifting on her, in her. "I'm so close," he whispered. "You?"

"I don't know," she said.

He nodded, bringing his hands down, and suddenly his fingers were there too, probing inside.

He touched that place again. Probed it, pinched it.

And then she shattered, and he grunted, spilling into her.

He pulled out of her, bringing her into his arms, holding her close. "I love you," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her brow. "You have no idea how much."


	10. Chapter 10

Andrea realized, a bit too late, how long it had been since she'd peeked in on Ned and Katie. She headed to the kitchens to fetch broth for Katie to give to Ned, wondering if he had woken up yet. Poor boy.

She wondered what Katie had done. She hoped that the girl hadn't done something foolish if Ned had woken up.

Flaherty and Delia were still in the kitchens, looking far too close for Andrea to feel comfortable with, especially considering what she'd heard about Melinda's actions on deck.

Delia was most definitely neglecting her duties and Andrea wasn't sure how she felt about that. Melinda could have been kidnapped or worse earlier and Delia wouldn't even have known until later.

Andrea got the broth without saying anything. It wasn't her place. And who was she to judge, when she hadn't seen her own charge in hours? Leaving her alone with a man?

Andrea picked up her pace, feeling her heart beat uncomfortably. She had a sudden foreboding that she'd only find trouble in the cabin.

She pressed onward, reaching the door and suddenly Jamison was there, blocking her way. "Andrea," he greeted, voice booming. "Have you come back to deliver the meal?"

"Yes," Andrea said, trying to step around him but he folded his arms and stood his ground, stubborn.

"I expected you earlier," Jamison said.

"Well, let me through so I can make up for that," Andrea said.

Jamison cleared his throat. "Andrea, I…"

"What?" She asked impatiently.

His gaze swept over her before sighing and stepping aside. "Never mind," he said.

She tried the door and it swung open.

Ned was in bed, sleeping, it appeared, and Katie was sitting in the chair beside it, looking a bit rumpled but most definitely clothed.

Andrea felt a lingering suspicion but dismissed her fears. Katie was a smart girl. She'd never do something foolish.

* * *

Melinda spent the rest of her time tending to others in need of care, washing cuts and bruises, binding wounds and administering the meagre amounts of real medicine...most men made do with whisky or rum, taking it to dull the pain.

Night fell and she wandered back to Captain Clancy's cabin, barely realizing that she'd fallen back to calling him that.

Jamison was outside the cabin, arms crossed. "I was wondering when you'd be coming back," he said. "He needs someone to sit with him tonight, in case he stops breathing."

Melinda's heart jumped unpleasantly.

"I'd rather it was someone who'd actually pay attention; I most obviously can't trust Flaherty to that job, and Bobby is on duty," Jamison said. "As am I. There are some nasty clouds up ahead and I'll need to steer the ship out of them."

He looked at her. "Are you willing to stay with him tonight?" He asked, voice gentle.

She nodded, not daring to speak.

He opened the door and she crept into the room. It was dark, lit by a single lantern hung over Captain Clancy's bed.

"The desk chair is nailed to the floor, so you can't move it nearer to the bed," Jamison said. "But since it is so dark, you need to be closer to watch him."

"I can sit on the floor," Melinda said, walking forward with soft footsteps.

He nodded. "Let me know if anything changes," he cautioned and slipped from the cabin, closing the door firmly behind him.

Melinda settled onto the floor, sitting on her legs. Captain Clancy was still just laying there, so still that she feared he'd already passed. The blankets covered him and it was too hard to detect the sound of him breathing so she pulled the blankets back a little, now able to watch the rise and fall of his chest.

He had so many scars, she reflected. There was the new one on his right arm, and there were some farther down on his stomach that she couldn't see right now. There was right on his left chest, though, long and nasty looking.

She again pressed her fingers to the white skin there, the proof that he'd healed, that he'd survived. It was ugly but it was beautiful, all at the same time. It was proof that he was living, breathing, surviving.

She momentarily flattened her hand on his chest, feeling him breathe, and then settled back onto the floor, leaning her head on the bed. She could see the rise and fall of his chest; she could almost hear him breathe over the slapping of waves against the ship.

It was peaceful. Peaceful and dark.

She was nodding off, she realized, and she didn't want to. She had to stay awake to watch him.

Her neck was starting to hurt and she tried to switch positions but there were none that were even remotely more comfortable.

And she couldn't see him as well.

She glanced at the door behind her, feeling that hours had gone by, and her neck was aching even more.

She carefully moved onto the bed, climbing over him to curl into his left side, not wanting to jostle his right arm. His arm was in the way so she pulled it over her, and laid an arm across his chest.

It lifted with each inhale and dropped with each exhale.

She felt confident that she'd notice if he stopped breathing now. And she let herself sleep.

* * *

Dawn came, and Melinda stirred, feeling warm and loved, something she hadn't felt since her grandmother's death.

The weight of Captain Clancy's arm was still atop her; her own arm was still across his chest, and neither had moved in the night.

Worry pierced her heart. He was still breathing but he hadn't even rolled over. This wasn't sleep, by any means.

She got off the bed, hurrying outside. The sun was barely lighting the sky and she shivered in the cool morning air.

Jamison was up high, steering the ship, and she clambered up the steps to where he was.

"Did something happen?" He asked.

"Nothing," she replied. "He is still breathing, and still unconscious. But he didn't even shift during the night. It's not like any sleep I've ever seen and I'm afraid."

"It isn't sleep," Jamison said, a frown on his face. "Not really. I've seen this happen before. Sometimes men wake up. Sometimes they don't. The only thing we can do is wait."

Melinda nodded, feeling her heart jump in her chest. "Should I change the bandages on his arm and head?" She asked and Jamison nodded.

"Wait for me," he said. "I'll help you this time."

She nodded. "I'm going to change my clothes," she said. "My dress is…" She let the words trail off.

"I'll send someone to watch him," Jamison promised, eyes softening as he looked at her. "You don't need to worry."

"Thank you," she whispered.

He lay a huge hand on her shoulder. "It is I who should thank you," he said. "You saved my captain's life, and probably mine too. I don't know how or why but things would have turned out much differently yesterday had you not intervened with Payne. And I'm not approving of your actions there, I don't know how you could even tell what was happening but the fact remains that...you are an astounding woman. And I need to thank you for it."

She nodded, feeling tears in her eyes. "I'd do it over again," she whispered. "Even with a different outcome."

Jamison nodded, sober. "What did Payne say to you?" He asked.

She just shook her head, looking out at the sea, and Jamison nodded, turning back to the wheel.

* * *

Melinda took a sponge bath, asked Andrea to help her with her hair since Delia was nowhere in sight.

In return, she helped Andrea with Katie's aunt, feeding her while Andrea rested.

Bobby was with Captain Clancy; she'd checked on that after dressing, and then come back to return Andrea's favor.

They were both a little quiet, subdued, worried. Andrea left often to check on Katie and Ned, and she was quickly growing impatient with how Jamison was making everyone leave them alone, fretting over what the two could be doing without a chaperone.

Melinda was merely envious of them.

She was in another cotton dress, a very light pink that was almost white, and she looked down at the barely sleeping Andrea. The woman worked so very hard. Melinda hated that she wasn't recognized or paid for her work. It didn't make sense.

"You can leave us now," Andrea whispered. "Go see your Captain."

Melinda smiled in spite of herself at the words, patting Andrea's shoulder. "He's not my captain," she said.

"His life is yours," Andrea said. "He owes it to you. So yes, he is your captain."

"Sleep well," Melinda told Andrea, rubbing her new friend's back a little more, trying to soothe the stressed woman. "Mrs. Lockport is fine and I'll talk to Katie."

"Thank you," Andrea whispered, and reached to grab Melinda's hand for a moment, squeezing it. "Thank you."

* * *

Melinda suspected that Katie and Ned were, indeed, losing some control, since after her knock she heard some distinct rustlings, and the sound of something falling; or Katie jumping from the bed.

She looked very rumpled when she opened the door; flushed. Her lips looked red and tender. Melinda knew that look.

"Is Ned feeling better?"

"Very well indeed," Katie gasped.

"I am," Ned nodded. "And my cap'n?"

Melinda sighed, stepping into the cabin. "He hasn't woken up yet," she told him.

He looked down, a bit shamefaced. "Can I see him?"

"You're still injured yourself," Melinda said. "Katie, I could stay with Ned if you need to change or bathe."

"I'm fine," Katie insisted, tugging at her green dress.

Melinda didn't miss the way Ned's eyes followed the younger woman.

"I'll just go, then," Melinda murmured, slipping from the cabin, knowing that she wasn't quite needed or welcome there currently.

Bobby was slipping from Captain Clancy's cabin as she approached it. "Oh, good," he said upon spying her. "My stomach is begging me for food. Could you stay with him?"

She nodded fiercely, slipping inside the cabin, approaching his bedside.

He was definitely still sleeping. It looked like Bobby had changed the bandages, and she felt guilty that she hadn't returned in time to do it herself; she felt jealous of him over the task.

Why hadn't her captain woken up yet?

Melinda pressed a hand to her mouth, feeling a sob well up, trying to keep control. She hadn't risked her life only for him to lose his in this manner. He had to wake up.

There was a chair next to the bed now; Bobby had probably grown tired of sitting on the floor.

Melinda perched there, on the edge of the seat, reaching out so she could take Captain Clancy's hand, feel the pulse present there, the proof of his beating heart present there in his wrist.

And she waited.

The day passed. He didn't stir.

Melinda's heart seemed to break more by the hour.

* * *

When Jim woke up, he felt as though his heart had been ripped from his chest. There was an immediate feeling of doom, grief, heartbreak.

Melinda was gone. Payne had taken her. She'd sacrificed herself for all of them and he had no idea why. He kept his eyes closed tight, processing all that had happened.

It had to be because she felt...something for him. If she had been doing for Ned's sake, why would she put herself between Jim and Payne's sword tip?

He remembered the feel of her, the weight of her body perched on his chest, the view he'd gotten of her hips, narrowing to her waist, and the feel of her hand on his mouth as she'd silenced him.

The feel of her finger in his mouth. The taste of her. How she'd reacted to that.

And the look on her face, when she turned back to him and said his name, Jim.

His name. Not Captain Clancy. Jim.

It had to mean something. She wasn't trying to escape them, she couldn't have been.

He opened his eyes, trying to sit up, his head pounding; right arm aching.

"Whoa, lay back down," came the rumble of Jamison's voice.

"How long have I been asleep?" He asked.

"I wouldn't call it sleep," Jamison said, arms folded. "Almost two days."

Jim turned to Jamison, his eyesight a little blurry but getting better. "Are we following Payne? Did you pursue his ship?"

"No," Jamison said simply.

"You left Melinda to that bastard?" Jim shouted, throwing the blankets back and discovering that he wasn't really wearing anything.

"No," Jamison said, shoving Jim back onto his back on the bed, pulling the blankets back up.

"Then did you rescue her from him?" Jim asked, incredulous.

"No," Jamison said.

"Then what the devil happened?" Jim said, voice shaking.

"She rescued herself," Jamison said. "And everyone on the ship. You were knocked out, Payne sent his men back, and then he spoke to Miss Gordon. No one heard what he said, but he shoved her away onto the deck and then just left."

Jim stared at Jamison, trying to process this. "You mean...Melinda is still on board."

"Yes, Miss Gordon is still on board," Jamison said.

Jim tried to breathe, but was finding it more than a little difficult. Jamison offered him a glass and Jim took it, downing it, choking once he realized it was rum and not water as he'd thought.

The rum helped though, burning a hole through him and clearing his mind.

"Where is she?" Jim asked.

"Right now?" Jamison replied. "I believe she'll be sleeping. It's almost midnight."

Jim leaned back on the bed, bringing his hands up to his face, wincing a little at the pain in his arm. "Another scar," he said softly, knowing that this one would not have the same emotional residue. Not at all. If things were as he thought, this might be a scar he'd celebrate.

"Indeed," Jamison chuckled.

"Why did she do it?" Jim asked, voice raw.

"Miss Gordon keeps her own counsel," Jamison replied.

"But it has to mean that…" Jim stared at Jamison. "That she loves me."

Jamison shrugged. "It is true that I cannot think of something else that would cause her to throw herself beneath Payne's sword."

"What happened to me?" Jim asked.

"Payne had his men hit you, and this is the first time you've woken up," Jamison said. "Miss Gordon did an admirable job taking care of your wounds and watching you your first night."

"What?" Jim said, feeling his eyes widening, and a crushing feeling of disappointment. He'd missed her tending to him? He could only imagine it, and even that vision was so sweet he almost lost all control.

Her bending over him, hair in his face, tending his arm...he wasn't wearing a shirt.

She'd seen his scars.

That thought sobered him somewhat.

"She's an excellent nurse," Jamison said, his voice a bit smug, as though he knew exactly what his words were doing to Jim. "We had thought...feared you wouldn't wake up. She was constantly at your side from last night until tonight, when Delia forced her to sleep in her own bed."

Where had she slept last night, then? In the chair where Jamison was sitting right now?

My god, why hadn't he woken then?

"Ned," Jim said, licking his dry lips.

"He is also recovering nicely from his head wound," Jamison said. "Miss Gregory has excellent needlework."

"Needlework... " Jim said, voice trailing off, reading between the lines. "And he is uninjured besides that?"

"Yes, the battle was short enough, I suppose, that there were no casualties," Jamison said. "Captain Gregory has reclaimed control but his crew and our crew are working together admirably."

"Good," Jim breathed. "That's good."

He needed to think about this, process it all.

"Could you...do you need to be sitting there?" Jim asked. "I don't need to be watched anymore, do I?"

Jamison chuckled. "Impatient, aren't we?"

"Can I get up?" Jim asked.

"You're the doctor, you tell me," Jamison said.

"Then go away," Jim said, getting out of bed as Jamison left and pulling on a pair of trousers. Surely Melinda hadn't been the one to remove that piece of clothing, he hoped, walking about the cabin, needing fresh air.

What he needed was to see Melinda and he knew he wouldn't lose this restless energy until he did.

He opened his door, slipping out onto deck, seeing that Jamison was nowhere in sight and only idly wondering where he was.

He'd never learned what exact cabin Melinda's was.

He wondered what she slept in. He wondered what she'd look like right now; would her hair be up, showing off her neck, or fanned out on the pillow beneath her head?

Why had she saved his life?

His heart seemed to pound to the words and he was terrified at the possibilities the answer to that question held.

The night was still and quiet. He looked around himself at the world, at his world, at the ship that wasn't his but had become his.

He walked back to his cabin, slowly, legs feeling stiff from disuse.

He stood in the middle of it, seeing the new chair by the bed, trying to picture Melinda sitting there.

He wanted...so much...he wanted her there now. He needed to speak to her. He needed proof that she was alive, that she was there, that she was his.

Because otherwise, why would she have done what she did?

He moved back to the bed; though he hadn't woken in, what, two days, he still felt exhausted. As Jamison had warned, it wasn't really sleep that had kept Jim from waking.

He slipped back into bed, rubbing his hand over his forehead.

The door to the cabin creaked open and he turned his head slowly, to see if Jamison had returned.

There were whisper soft footsteps, and he gasped.

Melinda was standing there in the doorway.

He really hoped he wasn't dreaming right now.

Notes:

BTW, I don't want anyone to think that I hate Delia. Because I adore her, I really do. And her not quite paying attention to Melinda is supposed to be because she's experiencing her own love story now and not because she's a jerk or something.


	11. Chapter 11

She couldn't sleep. She felt restless and very stimulated, though by what she wasn't sure.

Melinda rolled onto one side, shoving her pillow into a better position. She could hear Delia's breathing, wondering how long her friend had been asleep.

She wished that Jamison hadn't told her he'd watch Captain Clancy tonight. She wished she'd been able to do it herself. She wouldn't have had any trouble sleeping there, at Captain Clancy's side.

She inhaled, kicking her legs off of the bed and finally giving in to her mind, standing up. She shivered in the cool air and grabbed her robe, sliding it on over her nightgown, tying it tightly.

She padded through the hallways, not sure what she'd say to Jamison when he saw her coming in. He would tell her to go back to bed, she was sure of that. But she could just say that she'd been worried. He would understand that.

She emerged on deck and quickly and quietly walked to the back of the boat, reaching Captain Clancy's door. She flattened her hand on it, feeling the cool rough texture of the wood.

She pushed it open, slipping inside, closing the door behind her before looking to meet Jamison's gaze.

But Jamison wasn't there.

She startled, seeing that Captain Clancy was all alone, and...and she could stay with him.

And she startled more, for he was sitting up.

He was awake.

"Oh my god," she whispered, clapping her hands to her mouth. "You woke up."

His eyes pierced her, the blankets sliding off of his chest, leaving him terribly bare, with rippling arms and a muscled chest that seemed even more desirable and eye catching now that he was awake. She felt like she hadn't been spending the past two days admiring it.

She felt like she'd never seen it before, watching the stretch of the muscles as they pulled tight and then relaxed.

And he was staring at her. "Yes," he said, voice deep. "I did. Thanks to you, I believe."

Oh my god. She had to explain her actions to him. This had been so much easier when he was asleep. It had been so much easier when she'd expected him to wake up while she was bending over him. She had an odd, tingling feeling that there wouldn't have been as much time for talk then.

She had a sudden vision of him waking up when she'd been sleeping near him. Of his arms curling around her, firm and strong. Of his eyes piercing her, and then just kissing her, leaving no time for talk.

Oh my god. That was a terrible thing to think about with him just looking at her the way he was.

Her cheeks felt burning hot and she felt like she couldn't breathe; yet her breathing was only escalating.

He started to push the blankets back, as if about to get out of bed, but then looked down and reconsidered it.

Oh god.

He was wearing trousers, wasn't he?

Jamison had said something about giving him a sponge bath.

"Why did you do it, Melinda?" He whispered, voice so deep and rumbly that she wondered if she actually felt the vibrations in her stomach.

He was lying there in bed, possibly naked, most definitely shirtless, and he wanted her to tell him her feelings for him.

He was impossible.

"Do what?" She whispered.

A smile curled his mouth, only there for a second, before his eyes sharpened again; his hands clenching on the blankets. "Save my life as you did."

"I didn't want you to die," she said cautiously, still unable to tear her eyes from his chest.

He scoffed. "Why?" He demanded, voice desperate.

"You didn't deserve that death," she hedged.

He looked away, tortured, as if wondering whether or not to push her more.

She wondered if she should leave.

She knew she should leave. No good could come of this and if she let herself walk forward right now, as she wanted to, she knew what would happen.

There was a pull in the air, she felt like the air was crackling.

She started to edge away, back to the door, her upbringing and her history, and things that she'd learned the hard way coming back to her.

She couldn't afford to be that girl again. She couldn't afford the pain. It had almost torn her apart the first time and she'd never cared for Kevin as she did now for Captain Clancy.

She couldn't imagine how much harder it would be with him.

And how much better.

She'd reached the door behind her, pressing her body against it, feeling for the knob.

He was staring at her.

Was he going to let her leave?

She didn't want him to.

"I don't want you to," she whispered, her hand twisting around the knob.

"Want me to what?" He breathed, staring at her.

"Let me leave," she said, the words slipping past her last defenses.

He shoved the blankets back, and he was wearing trousers, and Melinda wasn't sure how she felt about that, and he was across the cabin in what seemed to be two steps (it had never seemed like that small a room until his awakening) and leaning over her, forearm braced on the door above her head, holding it closed. Holding her inside.

"I...could not believe my eyes, or my ears, when you ran out on that deck," he said, voice raw. "My mind cannot wrap itself around the fact that you, who profess to hate me, saved my life as you did. And I keep asking myself...why did she do it?" He leaned closer, his head close to hers, and she ducked her chin, looking down at herself.

She couldn't afford to let him see her eyes right now.

"Why did you do it, Melinda Gordon?"

* * *

She was so silent. She'd told him she didn't want to leave yet she wasn't saying anything and Jim was terrified he'd misread everything again.

She didn't love him. She couldn't love a man like him. She couldn't love a pirate. She'd said as much, and more. She hated him.

She was just the kind of woman who wouldn't let...a stray dog die on the street.

He couldn't be more to her. It wasn't possible. He'd lost all hope of being loved like that when he'd gotten onto this ship with Dan.

She was so close, he realized, his body in awe of how warm she was, and how soft she promised to be. How welcoming she wouldn't be. How she was closing herself off to him, ducking her head, doing all she could to avoid his gaze.

He wanted…

His hand curled into a fist from how much he wanted to touch her. He had to let her go. He had to make her go.

But oh god, he wasn't sure he could. He wasn't sure his heart would permit him that when the last time he'd seen her she'd been crying his name and being led away to die or worse...for his sake.

When he'd never thought to see her living again.

His heart was too in awe of the fact that she was actually standing here to let her go.

And she was looking.

His heart seemed to take a pounding upon the realization that she'd seen his scars. That she'd taken his shirt off and tended to him.

She'd have seen them, every mark.

She probably thought they were ugly. How could she think of them as anything but?

He should pull away. He had no right to be so close to her.

And then her hands, limp at her sides, were slowly moving. Her head came up, a little, then she swallowed, and started to speak. He could feel her breath hit his chest and he tensed.

"How did you get this scar?" She asked, pointing a shaking finger to the one above his left chest, the one he'd gotten defending Dan.

"I tried to save my brother's life," he said, voice unsteady. "And instead he lost it. Because of me."

She rested a hand on his arm, and he closed his eyes, wondering if she was about to push him away. Because if she did...he wouldn't be able to bear it but he'd have to.

He could feel her shifting, and closed his eyes tighter, imagining that she wasn't about to leave. Her hand tightened on his arm and he prepared to let her leave, his heart clenching at the thought.

And then lips pressed to that scar.

Her lips.

* * *

After days of looking at his scar, watching him, after wondering and wondering, she'd finally learned the story.

Her heart hurt for him. She couldn't imagine carrying that weight.

She reached to place her hand on his arm, bracing herself against him. He was so still, like he was asleep again.

Was this really happening?

She rose up on her toes, stretching to her fullest height, and pressed her lips there, knowing exactly what she'd ignite by doing so.

She was tired of fighting against it. She wasn't going to any longer. She knew she'd only fail in the end.

But right now it didn't feel like a failure, feeling his skin beneath her lips, letting her lips part over him.

Her breathing was shallow.

She settled back onto her feet and then just looked up at him. His eyes were so dark, unlike their usual light blue selves.

"My god," he whispered.

His arms slipped off of the door and moved around her waist, and he was bending over her, and his lips were so close, he was all around her.

She moved closer, tucking herself into him, and he gasped, and then their lips touched.

She wasn't prepared for the onslaught of sensations. There were his arms pressing around her, so strong that she couldn't breathe, and there was the scratch of his unshaven cheek, and there were his lips, so warm and real and hungry that she felt like she'd gone to heaven.

His lips moved over hers, hesitant, cautious, and she arched into him, only wanting him closer.

She needed this.

Needed him.

She let her mouth fall open beneath his, wondering what could come next. Wondering if she'd leave his bedroom intact. Wondering if she wanted to.

His movements were becoming more fluid, less hesitant, and she slipped her tongue out to meet his mouth, making him moan...and then return the favor.

She melted into him, losing all resistance, not that she'd had much to begin with. She was holding onto him, onto her last hold on reality: his body, closed around hers.

She slid her arms up around his neck, pulling his head down even more, letting his cheeks scrape hers.

Her robe's ties were between them, tied in a hard knot.

She felt like they were a barrier, something that was holding her back.

She tangled her hands into his hair, feeling the curls there, feeling his head beneath her touch.

And then she moved her hands down his shoulders, feeling their strength, and touching him was completely different when he was awake and touching her back.

She clutched at his shoulders, stuck there, holding onto their warmth, and then, hesitantly, moved her hands lower. She'd found his scar again but she pushed past it, down to the nipples she hadn't let herself touch when he'd been asleep.

They were pebbled, like her own were right now. They were hard and they were flatter than hers, harder to get a hold of.

She rolled one in her fingers, pulling hard.

He gasped, like he'd been burned, and pulled away from her, staring at her.

She was like no girl he'd ever met, that much she knew.

But then again, he was like no man.

She reached down and untied her robe with two quick jerks. She wasn't going to pretend any longer.

* * *

When Melinda's robe pooled at her feet, leaving her in a delicate nightgown, Jim wasn't sure how to react. She, again, wasn't quite looking at him, but he could barely notice that because of the glory of her body. Her breasts rose high and firm, bigger than a handful for him.

Her waist, barely visible under the fabric, promised to be smooth and taut.

Her hips blossomed beneath them, touching the loose fabric.

He started to reach for her, but she moved away from him. He didn't even realize that she'd edged around him until he saw that she was headed for the bed.

He was chasing her onto the bed.

He stopped immediately, breathing hard.

This wasn't his intention.

But Melinda kept going, until her knees hit the mattress. Her eyes were dark as she looked at him; her hair was tousled about her shoulders, golden brown and curly.

And her eyes were wide. So wide.

She sank back onto the mattress, legs dangling over the edge, and extended her hand to him.

He moved forward, hardly able to breathe, and climbed onto the bed over her, as she lay down, bracing one hand on each side of her head, so he could stare down into those mysterious eyes. She blinked up at him, chest rising rapidly with each breath, and he lowered his lips to meet hers.

She seemed even more responsive than before, twisting her body beneath his, moving her hips up to meet his in moments that took his breath away again and again.

He rolled onto his side, taking her with him, bringing her body atop of his, clinging to her and letting his lips move to other areas of her face, ghosting over her chin and kissing down her neck.

She whimpered as he did so. He could feel her pulse beneath his lips and kissed deeper, reaching the top of her chest and sucking there lightly, tasting her. He turned over again, bringing her beneath him, raising himself up to glance at her.

Her nightgown had ties.

It was such a simple movement to untie the two strings and pull one side back, revealing her breast.

They were all they'd promised to be and more. Jim looked up at her face in that moment, gauging her reaction to his reaction, wondering if she was letting this happen or still wanting it.

In that moment, impatient, she arched up for him, and he pulled back the other side of her nightgown, revealing her other breast.

He moaned, deep in his throat, and moved his hands to cover them, to feel them. His hands could only just cover them, cup them, and that fact stunned him. He ran his fingers along the sides, swept them over the underside, feeling like sparks rose from her skin as he did so.

He edged his finger inwards, curious, until at last he held her nipple. It was hard, and rose colored. It was pebbly and bumpy and perfect.

He leaned his head down and latched onto her, wondering how he knew to do this, why his body ached for it. She sighed in her throat as he did so, resting her hands on his head, seeming to pull him closer.

He tugged and licked at her nipple until it was even more erect, and then moved to the other, doing the same, until she was gasping beneath him.

He felt so heavy, so full and hard.

She again arched her hips upwards, restless, and this time she brushed his arousal, and instead of pulling back she pressed nearer, and moved her arms around him, pulling her down to her, pressing him against her.

He could feel her heat, through her nightgown and his trousers. She was pulsing against him and he groaned, loud and aching.

Her hands slid down, to the skin above his waistband, and moved over his hips, tugging at his trousers.

This was...too good to be true.

Jim slowly rolled onto his side, holding her gaze. She was so silent, other than her moans and gasps. She was just watching him, examining every reaction and move.

He wondered if he could take his trousers off lying down without making a fool of himself and began to doubt it, slowly pushing himself to a standing position.

He hadn't expected her to watch. Not really.

But she was pushing herself up on her elbows, and then her hands, staring at him, expecting so much.

Jim tried to breathe, his hands fumbling at his trousers, slowly pushing them down his hips. He wondered how he appeared to her, his arousal so prominent that, free of his trousers, it was almost sticking straight out; that was how erect he was, how hard he was just for her.

For her and no one else.

He wondered if she knew that.

She was staring at him, and made an odd little hum in the back of her throat.

He wasn't sure what should come next, but then she reached for her nightgown's dropped neckline and stood up herself, letting it drop to the mattress and kicking it off onto the floor.

She was tiny, he thought, reflecting that she could stand on the bed and not bump her head on the ceiling.

But nothing about her was lacking.

Her breasts were large, full, and her waist was taut and slim, only to lead to wide hips, and, he reflected, stepping closer to her, a very shapely derriere. She reached forward, to him, and he held his arms out.

She stepped into his arms, pressing herself against him, wrapping her legs tight around his waist. He grabbed hold of her, feeling the swell of her derriere underneath his hands, cuppng her there, too.

Oh god. She was perfect. Utterly perfect.

They fell back onto the bed and Jim let his lips explore every bit of her body that he could, from her breasts again, to her shoulders and neck and then down, kissing a line of fire down her stomach.

He'd read about this. He was a doctor and he knew about a woman's anatomy. But in practice, not in a book, this was so...he reached her thighs….so different.

Sighing from pleasure, he slowly spread her legs, amazed that she let him. He pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, feeling her buck against him, before duplicating the caress on her other thigh, moving inward, to the heat of her. To her core.

"I...have read books," he said hoarsely, letting his lips fall to the skin of her thigh again, sucking there. "I am a virgin but I know...how to do the act in a way that is pleasurable...to a woman." He kissed her thighs again, getting ever closer. "I will make this...very...pleasant for you. You needn't be afraid."

"I'm not," Melinda whispered, and he moaned, reaching her core, and letting one finger slide inside her.

She was wet. Wet and aching for him. Ready to wrap around him. And she was hot. He wondered, dreamed about, how she might feel around him.

She gasped as his fingers slipped deeper, as he called upon knowledge from his anatomy books, and a few other books that hadn't quite made the syllabus, knowing that there was a...part of her that would respond to him more than all others.

Respond to touch.

The clitoris.

He located it, he thought, and from her reaction he knew he had.

He was hard, aching for her, but he'd be damned if this scared her away. If this was unpleasant for her. He had never defrocked a virgin; hell, he was a virgin himself, but he knew that there was no way he wouldn't finish satisfactorily, she had him more than halfway there already.

But it wasn't fair to her if she didn't finish similarly.

He hummed a little, deep in his throat, pulling his fingers from her once he thought she was ready, wiping them clean on her thigh, regretting taking them from her warm heat, but wanting a different part of him inside her instead.

"Are you ready?" He asked, and she nodded fiercely.

He still wasn't sure if he was dreaming or not.

He poised himself at her entrance, all too ready to be inside her.

"I'm not," she suddenly said.

"Ready?" He asked and it took all that was in him to force himself to stop.

She inhaled, the move elevating her breasts. "A virgin...I'm not a virgin, Jim."


	12. Chapter 12

In his dazed mind, the first thing that registered was that she'd called him by his name. That she'd said his name again.

The second thing that registered was how vulnerable she looked right now.

The third was if the man in her past had done a better job of it than he currently was.

The fourth...he couldn't even think the fourth.

The tip of him was there, ready to sink into her, and the heat of her…

"That doesn't matter," he said hoarsely. "As long as I please you right now."

And he entered her.

* * *

He was big. Much bigger than Kevin had been. And this was an extremely different encounter than those hurried rendezvous' in stables and her grandmother's garden. Had she felt pleasure then? Yes. But it had been fumbling, almost more from the fear of being caught than from the pleasure of the act itself.

And Jim was here….she could never call him Captain Clancy again...and he looked right at her. "That doesn't matter."

She could have wept in relief. She almost did. And he was, he was pleasing her.

She swallowed a little as he entered her, filling her.

He looked down at her, gauging her reaction to him being inside of her, and she reached up to his shoulders, shuddering as he moved in her, and pulled him down to her, until his body rested over hers.

He was still, breathing, and his face turned, and she met his gaze again and she couldn't speak, just as she couldn't speak before now.

Really, it was as everyone had always said. She was merely a whore. She wanted him so much and she couldn't bear not having him right now. If that made her a slut, as it had with Kevin…

She leaned up to kiss him, pouring everything into the kiss, her eyes closed tight and her mind racing.

He had to kiss her back. When he did, his mouth moving over hers, his tongue sweeping out to meet her own, she clenched her arms around his neck, moving her hips to sheathe him deeper inside of her.

Jim moaned, loud and clear, rocking into her, pulling out a little only to sink back in. Melinda gasped into his mouth, letting him steal the sound from her as she'd taken his moan.

If this made her a slut, so be it. It wasn't like that was something she could change about herself at this point either.

And yet would he believe her? How could he believe that she loved him when she'd previously given favors to another man? When Mrs. Danvers back home had told Melinda, very clearly upon discovering her with Kevin, that she'd never find another man to love her.

When she'd begged Kevin to marry her to save her from disgrace and he'd laughed in her face, saying that she'd only been an easy ride for him to take but she wasn't rich enough for him to marry.

She'd been lost without him. Unable to feel that pleasure she'd felt in his arms, and unable to find another man to give it to her for what man would want to ever touch soiled goods?

And yet here Jim was, sinking into her, kissing her like he was desperate. Maybe some men would have entered her anyway, needing the release, but he was kissing her, acting like he might still...might still care for her.

The emotions were building and she clung to him ever harder.

He was moving inside her, getting closer. She wondered if he needed help, as Kevin had.

She slid her hands down his back, and he jerked against every touch. She came to his hips, to his muscular buttocks, and pressed her hands there, moaning as she did so from how good it felt to hold him like this, pressing him ever further into her.

He jerked against her, shuddering, gasping, making such breathless sounds that she was found herself making them in return.

He pierced her deeper and she cried out, wondering if he'd truly guide her to release as Kevin had only once over multiple encounters.

She whimpered as she got closer, a little hum deep in her throat, and Jim broke away from her mouth to kiss her neck, down to her pulse, sucking there like he was a desperate man. She moaned again, as his chin settled into her neck, as he grunted, about to come.

"Just a little more," she begged, desperate to come with him; before him, after him, just with him.

She needed that.

Jim closed his eyes, concentrating, and his member touched her, brushed her, shattered against her, and the feelings brought her over the edge.

Did they come together? She wondered dazedly, crying out his name. "Oh, Jim," she wept, and discovered that she was really crying.

His arms were still tight around her, and he was still shuddering from his release, but he noticed her tears.

He tilted his head up, watching her, and then placed his cheek on hers, breathing with her as she cried.

And then he rolled off of her, gently, pulling himself from her and she didn't want to lose their contact and she was so afraid and her hands fumbled to grab hold of him, pull him back; she couldn't lose him.

"Why are you crying?" He asked.

She had to say the words. "Because I thought, numerous times over the past few days, that I'd never see you alive again," she whispered, pressing a hand to his chest, flattening it over his heart. "Because you were about to die at Payne's hand and I couldn't let that happen."

He started to speak, but she spoke over him.

"Because you didn't wake up," she gasped, feeling her tears coming harder, shaking her body. "And I was terrified that I'd never get to tell you…"

"Tell me what?" His voice was so deep, so husky, like he was also finding it hard to gather words.

"That I love you," she wept, shifting closer to him, sliding her arms around his body, clutching him, not allowing him to leave. "And I was not a virgin and I...I know that you won't be able to love me now, not as you would have."

Silence, but for her ragged breathing. She felt his body, clung to it. If he left right now, if he pulled away, she would literally shatter. She'd break from the pain. She couldn't bear another man, her father, Kevin, Jim...She couldn't bear it if another man she loved left her.

His throat was working but he wasn't saying anything and words continued to spill from Melinda's mouth. "And I know that I'm a slut," she whispered. "I know that I'm despicable and you deserved a woman who was pure for your first time but my god, Jim, I love you, and if you just…"

"No," he whispered, his arms sliding around her.

"No?" She gasped.

"You aren't despicable," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Or a slut. And most men lose their virginity to a woman in a bawdy house anyway so I don't know why you're talking about what I deserve." He laughed a little. "I'm a pirate," he whispered, eyes sparkling down at her. "What do I deserve?"

She couldn't find the humor in his words.

"A woman who loves me more than her own life?" Jim wondered, his voice deepening, roughening. "Because I have that and I never thought I'd ever meet a woman who wouldn't hate me after what I've done," he pressed a kiss to her forehead again. "What I've become."

"But I don't understand," she whispered, lips trembling and Jim caught them in his own, kissing her until she'd almost forgotten what she was going to say.

"Understand what, my love?" He whispered.

"Another man...took your prize, aren't you angry?" Melinda said and Jim's arms jerked around her.

"Don't even say that," he said. "Did he make you feel as I did tonight?"

"Well, I…" She licked her lips. "No. Never as tender or as slow."

"Did you love him?" Jim asked.

She slowly shook her head, staring at him. "Not as I love you," she whispered. "I wouldn't have done for him what I did for you on deck with Payne."

Jim was slowly moving over her, his lips descended again, kissing her until she was breathless.

"He got nothing of you, then," Jim whispered. "Nothing important. Virginity is important in that it's a gift to your beloved. But I take your love...your sacrifice...I take that instead of virginity. And it's so much more, because it was intended and not just an accident of nature."

"But you were a virgin," Melinda said, feeling her cheeks redden. "You don't feel…" She shrugged her shoulders. "Like it isn't fair?"

"I feel like you offered me all of yourself just now," Jim replied. "And that I merely gave all of myself back." She could feel him breathing. "Is that why...you couldn't say anything before we made love?"

"I wanted you," she whispered. "After days of looking at you, lying here in this bed, nearly nude, my heart and body were going mad. And I know that good women don't feel that way, ever. And you woke up and wanted me to say...that I loved you...and I do...but I couldn't find the words. I was so afraid that everything would crumble, I couldn't...I told him I loved him and he didn't...he didn't say it back and he left me and Jim, I…"

"I love you," Jim said, capturing her lips again, until she was breathless from his embrace. "I love you," he said again, his hands roaming over her body. "I cannot imagine loving you more than I do and I cannot imagine loving you if you were different, if you hadn't acted as you did right from the beginning, from that first night."

He pressed another kiss to her, and he was just saying the words, over and over, healing her. "I love you. I love you."

They fell asleep in each other's arms.

* * *

Jim jerked awake when he rolled over and the bed was empty. His mind felt fuzzy and it was still pitch black out, so it couldn't be that much later.

Almost without thinking, he jumped from the bed and pulled trousers on, stumbling out onto deck.

Melinda was there, standing at the rail.

He stepped up behind her, pressing into her, pressing a kiss to her neck, sucking on the delicate skin there. "Why did you leave?" He whispered, voice rough, nervous.

"I didn't think you'd wake up," she whispered in return. "I cannot shake the feeling of…"

He couldn't help curling his arms around her slim waist, holding her close to him, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Of what, my love?"

"That I'm being wicked," Melinda said. "After being good for so long. After finally putting Kevin behind me I went out and ruined myself all over again."

She was utterly, ruthlessly honest and Jim's heart hurt for her. He leaned to kiss her jaw, again unable to help himself when she was so close to him, and he knew that his touch was welcome. He couldn't believe how whole he felt with her.

"I don't think that this is wicked," he finally whispered. "It's love."

Tears were welling in her eyes and he kissed them away, sucking at her skin as he did so.

"I'm such a hypocrite," she continued. "Lambasting Delia for...for falling in love and not denying herself a chance at happiness. Who am I to...to judge?"

"Don't worry about any of it," he whispered. "Not until morning, at any rate. Sleep with me."

She stiffened and Jim knew he'd said the wrong thing.

"Don't," she said brokenly. "Don't pretend that this is alright. God frowns on any who...who…"

Jim sighed, leaning into her. "I think God would understand," he whispered. "I have no idea if this is what He approves of or not but I think there's a reason that the act that begets more children also feels...good." He pressed a kiss to her neck. "Very good."

Her body was shaking and she slowly pushed herself away from him, leaving Jim to let his hands fall at his sides.

"I can't do this," she whispered. "I thought it would be easier to give in to these mad lusts, but it wasn't. Now I just feel...dirty again."

"Don't reduce what we just did to an animalistic act," Jim said, scraping a hand through his hair. "It was love, Melinda. Real love. Love was what brought us together, love that God created."

He reached out to her and she flinched away.

That was more than he could bear.

He couldn't breathe and it was in a very bad way. He turned, trying to choke down emotions he hadn't felt since Dan's death.

He was right. No matter what, love wasn't enough. It never was. No matter how much he loved her he'd never be able to convince her that what they'd done wasn't wrong.

And he felt like his heart could surely not survive trying more.

He started back to his cabin, feeling blind, injured, like she'd pierced the very heart of him, because she had.

"I'm sorry."

The words were choked out, and then her arms were flung around him from behind. "I'm so sorry," she wept into his back. "I don't want to hurt you."

He stayed still for a moment, feeling her against him.

The question was, who was hurting more here?

He turned around, scooped her into his arms and carried her to his room, kicking the door open and then shut.

Melinda pressed a frantic kiss to his throat, but he put her down on the ground. "No," he said.

"No?" She asked, voice wild.

"I cannot make love to you again until you promise you won't feel guilty about it," he said, voice raw. "I love you, Melinda, and this is...how I know to show those feelings." He let his hand fall to her shoulder. "By touching you." He moved his hand up to cup her face. "By kissing you. By feeling you near me and letting you feel me, in our rawest and most intimate moments. But I cannot let myself give into this until you understand that this isn't merely a mad lust. You can't diminish it to that."

"But I don't know how!" Melinda cried, tears pouring down her face. "I don't understand how. I've been down this road before and Kevin said...said that if I loved him, I would let him, so I did but he didn't love me. And he said I was dirty for allowing him to take such liberties and Mrs. Danvers outright told me I was condemned and Jim…"

She threw her hands up, frantic, the emotions of the past few weeks completely overwhelming her. "And you're a pirate! And I should hate you but from that first meeting I've been obsessed about you, only wanting to be closer, and I know that that made me wicked and that's why I couldn't...couldn't let myself…"

Jim breathed in, trying to realize all of what she was saying, how badly she had been hurt in the past. "Melinda," he stated.

She looked at him with wide eyes.

"Am I wicked?" The words were serious, weighted.

She inhaled. "No," she gasped. "No, never. You aren't who I thought and said and perhaps wished you were. You're beautiful and good, and a kind man, and…"

He held a finger up to her lips, and she stilled, quieted.

"Then why are you wicked?"

She exhaled, her breath warming his finger.

The atmosphere in the cabin seemed to change.

She looked down. "I need a handkerchief," she whispered, not looking at him.

He found one among Dan's things and she blew her nose fiercely, wiping her tears away.

He studied her, trying to figure her out. "We can...we can talk about this," he whispered.

"I don't want to talk," she said thickly, marching past him to the door.

His heart fell, disappointed, and then he heard a bolt slide into place.

When he turned around, she'd already taken off her nightgown, standing nude before him.

"Melinda," he gasped, his breath taken away by the sight of her.

"If this is how you show love, then love me," she begged, reaching out to him. "Please. Because I don't...I don't know otherwise."

* * *

It was nothing like how they'd moved a few hours ago. Then their movements were marked by passion, a relentless need, a knowledge that if they stopped they might not be brave enough to resume.

Now, his hands moved slowly over her body, picking her up under the thighs and carrying her onto the bed, laying her there carefully, standing for a moment to just admire her before removing his trousers. She waited patiently, eyes wide open, and trusting when he moved over her again.

He kissed her neck first, called to the indent next to her collarbone, before traveling up her neck, dragging his lips up and finally pressing a hungry kiss to her lips.

This was so good. He felt like he could just kiss her for the rest of his life, for this encounter, and it would be enough. The reciprocity of the action, how she never gave less than she got, stunned him, made him only want her more, love her more.

He slowly became aware of her hands roaming over his body, over his back, running over every muscle present there.

She pulled away, only to gasp, "I love you," a bit wildly, as though still afraid that he wouldn't believe her; that he wouldn't say it back.

"I love you," he whispered back, tender, heartfelt.

Her eyes filled with tears. "I don't know how long it's been since someone said that to me," she whispered. "Before this evening. Before you."

He only kissed her more then, clutching at her, afraid that she'd disappear in a puff of smoke, afraid that she'd lose confidence again if he didn't.

He let his lips fall down, roaming over her body, coming to her breasts.

She looked at him, gaze soft and trusting, and he lowered his mouth to her nipples and had a feeling that her gaze had changed. One of her legs came up to wrap around his waist and he could hardly bear the feel of it around his naked body.

She let her hands drift down, and Jim moaned when she took him into her hands.

"I…" He whispered, losing track of thought when she stroked him.

"Roll onto your back," she said.

"No, I…" He bucked against her touch, rolling onto his back. "I've never...You don't have to."

"I know," she breathed.

He had never felt anything like how he felt when her mouth was on him. He felt like he was going to go crazy and he didn't know where to look, or how to feel, but the pressure was only building.

He gasped, throbbing inside her, feeling her tongue sweep him, bucking nearer to her, and she only took him deeper.

Oh my god.

He would never have asked her to do such a deed, but now he wouldn't be able to think of her without thinking of her mouth on him.

She slid him free, holding him in her hands. "Could you...finish inside me?" She asked, voice shy. "I...I'd prefer that."

His mind wasn't working, but his body was, slowly pushing her onto her back, kissing her, breath stopping again when he tasted himself on her. Was this truly happening?

His arousal was only more insistent, but Jim placed his mouth on her first, leaving her trembling beneath him, reaching her core and bringing her to the edge.

And then he slid inside her, and that was better.

If anything was better than her taking him into her mouth, it was being inside her, connected to her.

He fell over her gasping, exploding into her, and she came soon after, tumbling into him. "I love you," she gasped, her arms tight around him.

"My answer to that hasn't changed," he soothed, brushing her hair back from her forehead. "And it never will. I love you."

This time, when he woke, hours and hours later, knowing he'd had the best rest of his life, Melinda was still with him.

And he knew that that was why.


	13. Chapter 13

When Melinda woke up, there was light shining in the window; her room was astoundingly bright.

She stirred more, startling awake, sitting straight up, staring around her. This wasn't her room.

The sheets slipped from her bare breasts and she gasped, remembering the night before that had brought her to this point, turning to find Captain Clancy's eyes on her.

Jim. She merely stared at him for a moment, breath taken away by the intensity of his gaze, feeling his eyes roam over her body, fixate on her breasts, before sliding back up to her face, his lips curving in a smile.

"Good morning," he said, his voice deliciously husky.

"Morning?" She whispered faintly, her cheeks turning red, starting from the bed, the sheet falling away from the rest of her.

She looked to the floor, desperately searching for her nightgown or robe, but Jim had stood up from where he'd been straddling the chair.

He was almost fully dressed, in breeches and white shirt; boots.

"I greeted the crew," he said simply. "Talked to everyone. They all know I woke up and now they think I'm napping it off some more." He smiled again. "You've no reason to hurry," he said, voice deep.

"I...I…" Her legs were sticky. Jim had poured water onto a towel and was holding it out to her.

"Do you want me to clean you up?" He asked, and she stumbled back onto the bed, her cheeks red and she had no idea where to look as he gently daubed at her legs, his hands unbelievably gentle.

Kevin would never have done this. Not even when he'd taken her virginity and there had been blood to join the mess.

Jim finished, his hands lingering on her thighs for a moment before handing her her nightgown.

"Delia is in the kitchen, I know for a fact," he whispered, gentlemanly looking away as she moved it over her head. "I wager I could go down below and find you some clothes."

She breathed in for a few minutes, appreciating that he was letting her be silent, gather herself. "Please," she whispered, and he nodded, standing up again.

He was moving to the door when her heart urged her to stand up, run after him, throw her arms around his waist.

"I don't regret it," she whispered, her face in his chest, hiding herself, before cautiously tilting her face up to look at him.

There was a look of awe on his face, and his arms slowly moved around her, tightening on her waist. "I could never regret you," he whispered. "I could never forget you."

She kept her arms tight around his waist, until he cleared his throat. "Do you want me to get you the clothes?" He whispered.

She nodded. "Um. There are undergarments in the chest under the bed, and my dresses are in the built in cabinet." She looked up at him, wide eyed. "I'll need…" Her throat worked for a moment. "Pantaloons and a chemise and a corset. Those are all you need to worry about, I can do without the others."

She could feel him inhale, as if imagining her dressed like that, nearly bare beneath her dress. She flushed a little. "I don't care what dress you bring," she whispered, her words almost muted in his chest.

"I'll pick my favorite," he breathed, his words a rumble, and the tone in his voice...Melinda's cheeks grew even hotter.

"Do," she said.

"Your arms are still around me," he breathed.

She slowly let him go, feeling afraid to do so, her gaze on the floor, only remembering the excitement she'd always felt when Kevin had left, which had turned to terror the last time he'd left.

She was having a hard time letting go of those feelings, letting go of Jim. She moved back to the bed, feeling his eyes, hot, on her as she slowly sat on the bed.

He was still standing there, by the door, just watching her for a moment longer. She swallowed. She breathed in and reached for the hem on her nightgown, slowly dragging it over her head, hearing his sharp inhale as she did so, and the sound of a curse.

"Do you know what you're doing to me?" He breathed, his knuckles almost white on the doorknob.

She slowly stretched on the bed, arching one hip, closing her eyes for a moment and then reached her hand out.

"You said there was no hurry," she breathed. "So come back to me."

He was still, so terribly still, and then he vaulted across the room, covering her body with his, pressing his lips everywhere, tasting every inch of her.

And life was very, very good.

* * *

He got her clothes, after. She managed to let him leave her sight, inwardly terrified every moment he was gone, until he returned, face a bit flushed, holding out her clothes.

It was almost as seductive to dress as it was to undress with him watching. With him helping. She slid the chemise over her head and Jim helped her tighten her corset, his hands strong on the strings, tying the ends with ease, pressing a kiss to her bare neck when he'd finished.

The dress he'd brought was the striped one he'd complimented on his second day on board. She flushed as she looked at it, wondering what he'd thought of her that day.

The buttons on the back were tiny and she was a bit apprehensive, but Jim's hands moved nimbly up the row, until she was fully dressed.

He surveyed her, eyes dark. "You look like a vision," he breathed, placing one large hand on her face, and she leaned into the touch, craving the comfort she'd take from it.

"Do you like the dress especially?" She wondered, voice a bit small.

Jim nodded, moving closer, pressing a kiss to her bare collar bone. "Very much," he said, voice rumbling. "I confess to having liked you better without it, but that's just personal."

She laughed, just a bit shocked at his words, and he laughed in return, his lips still on her neck, so she could feel every tremor as he laughed.

"My hair," she said, pulling away. "Do you think you could help with that?"

"I don't have a brush and didn't bring one," he confessed, his hands moving to thread themselves in her tangled curls; a favor of the sea air.

He combed her hair back with his fingers, found a ribbon and looped it around her hair, tying tightly and bundling it up into a rather sloppy bun, finding another ribbon to tie the hair again.

"It's better than what I could manage," Melinda whispered as he finished. "But it seems a pity."

"Hmm?" He asked, his fingers lingering on her neck, shoulders, moving to trace lazy lines between her shoulder blades.

"I'm all dressed," she breathed. "Yet I fear I have never wanted you more."

He moaned, his arms encircling her from behind and she leaned into the touch. This...this was what she'd never had with Kevin. Comfort. Safety. Trust.

The feeling that she could rest against him, all worries forgotten.

She closed her eyes, breathing the moment in, before pulling away.

"I should see how Katie and Ned are getting along," she said, gently and reluctantly pushing his hands off of her waist.

His eyes followed her, and so did his body, striding out of the cabin after her.

The deck was quiet, and Melinda pretended that no one saw her leave his cabin. Everyone could probably tell anyway and she couldn't bring herself to care all that much.

Ned's eyes lit up when they walked through the door; he was amazingly alone, with Katie nowhere in sight.

"Jamison said you'd awoken," he cried, vaulting from the bed and throwing his arms around his captain.

"I came to see you earlier, but you slept still," Jim said, clapping his cabin boy on the back.

"Melinda, I mean, Miss Gordon," Ned greeted, pulling away from Jim and nodding at her. "How does the day find you?"

"I'm very well," Melinda replied. "And you? Have your bandages been changed recently?"

"This very morning," Ned said happily. "And Bobby helped me with some other needed adjustments as well."

"It seems we both survived a rather wicked storm," Jim said.

"Again," Ned replied. "We seem to have the luck of the devil, eh, Cap'n?"

"Jim," Jim said. "I'm not the captain currently. That honor goes to Captain Gregory."

"Good," Ned breathed. "You wore that mantle rather reluctantly."

"I'll yet be forced to bear it again," Jim said.

Melinda followed the conversation in confusion, wondering at all the intonations and indications of a much larger shared past between them.

Jim had not been captain long? And it was a title he was reluctant or unwilling to bear?

Jim nodded thoughtfully. "I gather that Katie is out of confinement," he said. "That's good."

"She is a most admirable nurse," Ned said. "Very good at her craft, though I gather that I am her first patient."

"Indeed," Jim said.

"I think I'll go find Andrea," Melinda said, not feeling quite comfortable anymore. They seemed to almost be speaking in a different language, one that she didn't quite understand.

Jim's eyes lit on her, lingered until she blushed, before he dragged his gaze back to Ned.

She slipped from the cabin, hurrying over the deck and almost colliding with Andrea.

"So," Andrea said, hands on her hips. "You're awake."

"I am," Melinda blushed. "Do you know where Delia is?"

"Lying abed, same as you," Andrea scolded.

Melinda bit her lip, pushing hair that had escaped from Jim's bun behind her ear. "Do you judge us harshly for it?" She asked. "I know that it is...hypocritical, especially considering certain things that I may have said and done before...last night."

"Melinda," Andrea said, shaking her head. "You were in love with him all along."

"I wasn't," Melinda said, ducking her head. "That is...you could tell?"

"I fear everyone but Captain Clancy could tell," Andrea said dryly. "I never thought you'd dare on your feelings, though."

"I hadn't intended to," Melinda murmured. "I just went to see if he...if he needed tending and...he'd woken up."

* * *

There was awe in Melinda's voice as she spoke, making Andrea feel like she was standing a bit too close to the sun or something like it, from how Melinda's eyes blazed just to remember it.

"Love and honesty could change the world," Andrea commented.

"They could," Melinda said, folding her arms. "Andrea, I...I am no less clean than I was last night—"

"You need not make excuses—"

"Because I wasn't a virgin then, either," Melinda rushed to finish. "And I don't need to tell you this and I don't know why I am except to be honest. There's a reason I was on this ship in the first place, and not just because my grandmother died and my only living relative is my father in Jamaica. It's because I was ruined back in Boston. Because no one would look twice at me. And I...if I am to lose your friendship over this, I'd rather have you know that I was never pure enough in the first place."

"Friendship," Andrea breathed.

"Yes," Melinda said, staring up at the taller woman, throat working. "I had hoped we were friends."

"I've never had a friend who made excuses to me," Andrea wondered, reaching to grasp Melinda's hand in hers; brown against white, a promise. "And Melinda, you are no less in my mind than you ever were. I never expected to find a friend like you. Someone who...treated me like an equal."

Melinda looked away from her, sudden tears in her eyes. "You remind of my grandmother," she suddenly said, voice a bit broken. "And I miss her so much."

* * *

Katie hummed a little, finishing dressing. She'd been dragged, almost, from the 'hospital wing' of the boat by Andrea last night, and spent the night in her own bed, just counting the hours until she could return to him.

The day had dawned brightly and Katie was shocked when she opened the door to Ned's current quarters and found Captain Clancy inside, looking larger than life and very awake.

"Miss Gregory," he greeted.

She stood stock still, afraid of his judgment, his punishment.

He stepped forward, reaching out a hand and she cringed away.

"Katie, no," Ned began, but Captain Clancy silenced him.

"Miss Gregory, I believe I owe you thanks," Captain Clancy said. "You saved Ned's life with your fine stitches and I'm not sure that that is a debt that I could ever repay."

Katie stared at him, mouth having fallen open. "I...well, there is…" He took her hand, pressing a quick kiss to the knuckles.

"Let me know if there is any way I could repay it," he said. "I apologize for the distress I have caused you."

"All is forgiven," she breathed, as he swept from the cabin, leaving her and Ned alone. "What was that?" She gasped, staring after him, and turning to Ned.

"Well, after all, you did save my life, surely you haven't forgotten that?" Ned said. "You are a fine nurse, Katie Gregory."

His smile was crooked, warming her heart. "Well, that is no matter," she said. "What...I thought you were just a cabin boy."

"There's a bit more to our story than that," Ned said, laughing a bit.

"How did it begin then?" Katie asked.

Ned startled. "It's quite a long story, are you sure you wish to know?" He asked.

"Yes," Katie said. "All of it."

Ned settled back onto the bed, straightening the covers and patting the spot next to him.

She hurried to sit there, curling into his side. "Tell me," she asked. "How you came to be on this ship."

"Shh, and maybe I will," Ned said. "I suppose...I suppose the place to start is when we met."

* * *

"We met in the London slums," Ned began. "I was poorer than a dirt mouse, and my family was no better off. My father was a drunk and my mother was ill with pneumonia; I was the youngest child and it was a wonder that they'd both lived that long."

It was a cold day when James Clancy walked into the bar, rubbing his hands from the cold, passing an uncertain coin to the bartender and requesting a strong drink.

"You need to warm yourself?" Ned asked, sidling up to him.

"I need to give myself courage," the man replied.

"Ned," Ned said, sticking out his hand.

There was a moment where the other hesitated, then he returned the gesture. "James," he replied. "Jim."

"Jim," Ned said. "Why do you need courage?"

"My brother's merchant ship lands in port today, and I told him that I would go on board with him, become his doctor," Jim replied. "I only just finished school and I am terrified."

"You're a bit old to only just finish," Ned commented. "Mind you, I'm only seventeen so I guess anyone looks old to me."

Jim laughed a little, taking the liquor that was passed to him, looking at it a bit dubiously. "Maybe I am older," he said. "But my father was unwilling and I waited until he passed before going to school to train as a doctor."

"I see," Ned said.

"And I may be older," Jim said. "But I'd wager that you know more of the world than I do. I'm a sheltered man, I confess. My father and mother kept me home, afraid I'd turn out like my brother before me, a scallawag who ran away on a merchant ship and never came home even to visit." He sighed. "And this is his first return voyage in...in years. I've been corresponding with him ever since my father died and I fear that Daniel has been just counting the days until I finished school; I'm not sure why but he can't get another doctor to board his ship."

"How odd," Ned said, watching as Jim just sniffed at his drink, his nose wrinkling a little from the scent. "Buy me one," Ned asked. "I'll show you how it's done."

Jim obligingly gave Ned a coin and Ned got his own. "Like this," Ned said a bit wickedly, tossing it back down his throat; used as he was to it, he welcomed the burn.

Jim did the same, and immediately choked, somehow swallowing and staring at Ned with shocked eyes. "That's how you do it?" He gasped.

"If you want to get your courage up, it's the only way," Ned said. "Come on, have another."

"I don't think so," Jim said, but Ned had summoned the bartender.

"Oi, leave the bottle this time," Ned said, and the man nodded; thankfully this wasn't a bar that Ned frequented or he'd know better.

Jim passed over the requisite coins, staring as Ned poured him another glass. "Down it goes," he said, passing the glass to Jim.

"Why are you doing this?" Jim asked.

"Doing what?" Ned asked.

"Trying to get me drunk," Jim muttered, staring at his glass a moment longer before tossing it back, closing his eyes against the burn in his throat.

"You asked for it," Ned said. "I'm simply obliging."

"Do you live around here?" Jim wondered.

"Aye," Ned said.

"Work?"

"As if I could find a job," Ned dismissed, waving his hand.

"Then come with me," Jim said. "I'm sure Dan could use a...a…."

"Cabin boy?" Ned offered, already standing up, making plans to go home and tell his parents that he was off.

"Certainly," Jim said.

"Stay here," Ned said.

"Why?" Jim wondered.

"I just need to say farewell to my parents," Ned told him, eyes shining and voice excited. "And then I'll go with you."

Captain Daniel Clancy gave Ned the wrong kind of feeling from the start, what with how excited he was to see his brother and the rascal boy he'd brought with him. He was too eager to see new men aboard his ship; surely an honest captain would have no problem hiring men.

He was over the moon to see his brother; Ned watched a bit shocked at the praises Captain Clancy heaped on Jim's head, assuring him that he was the best doctor to ever live and he couldn't leave his brother in the lurch; this was the right decision, by god, and Jim had better stand by it.

Jim basked in the glow of his brother's obvious pride and desperation, his smile so wide that Ned felt a bit embarrassed. Was Jim really so starved for love?

The first few weeks went by easily enough, with Jim and Ned doing the same work as everyone else on the ship did, putting up sails, learning how to manage a boat.

They were sore and working from dawn til dusk; Ned's arms had never been so strong and he was rather in awe at the changes taking place in the previously shy man beside him. Once a slim scholar, Jim was suddenly bulking, putting on muscle like his brother next to him and then some, cutting a very admirable figure.

Ned sat back and watched, still wondering why things felt off on this ship.

And then there was the ship. The ship. The merchant's ship, loaded with jewels and money, foodstuffs and plunder.

Daniel attacked it. Daniel attacked and he won, using every bit of manpower he had.

Ned would never forget the look of horror on Jim's face as the other ship sank to the ocean floor, men and all, after Daniel had finished plundering it, stripping it of its gold and treasure.

"You're a pirate," he'd spat.

"I never denied it," Daniel said coolly. "And now you're a pirate too, and just as dead as I am to the world."

His eyes blazed into his younger brother's, daring him to leave, to challenge him.

Jim fell away, going down below.

Ned had never heard him weep before.

He never wanted to again.

After that, after Daniel's true colors were revealed, everything changed. Jim avoided his brother, tending to the men who had been wounded in the battle, refusing to eat the food that had been recovered from the other ship.

"We have to escape somehow," Jim muttered one night to Ned, standing close to him.

"We can't," Ned said, voice weary.

"Why not?" Jim wondered.

"Because, like your brother said, we're pirates now too," Ned said. "You really think anyone's going to believe or care that you were unwilling in the beginning?"

The light on Jim's face had gradually faded, but his love for his brother somehow didn't. He was angry with Daniel, yes, but as the battles grew more and more frequent, Jim became more and more involved in keeping Daniel safe as his older brother risked his life for nothing more important than a piece of gold or a wench who was easy on the eyes.

They were chased out of every port they docked in, after Daniel was let loose, terrorizing the people there and usually leaving with a wench or two in his arms, who he'd leave at the next port, stranded, away from their homes and families and totally ruined.

But Jim didn't know how not to protect Daniel. He saved his life, over and over, intervening in fights and getting his fair share of scars.

Ned could tell that Jim still thought his brother to be redeemable, like things could still change.

He hesitated to correct Jim.

One fateful day, another pirate ship attacked them at dawn, waking the crew in a blur, shaking them all awake.

Ned watched as Jim grabbed a sword, ready to do battle protecting his brother.

The other crew was much more skilled than Daniel's rowdy men; they were out for blood and not just a good time, a momentary thrill.

Jim was in over his head. Ned was used to fighting; had grown up on the streets of London licking any boy who dared challenge him, but Jim was a fish out of water, with no idea what to do. He'd always been able to fake it before, but with this battle he was most definitely outmatched.

And so was Daniel.

Captain Sebastian Roofer was older, crueler. He matched Daniel blow for blow, a lethal look on his face.

If looks could kill Daniel would already be dead but Ned could tell that the end wasn't very far off anyway.

Jim was far away, across the deck.

Ned felt assured that he wouldn't do something foolish, but Daniel cried out as Roofer's sword pierced him.

And it was like time stopped.

Ned watched in horror as Jim raced across the deck, somehow and someway edging through the frantic fight, shoving his brother out of the way.

He wasn't close enough to hear but Roofer seemed to understand, and Jim was crumpling to the ground clutching his side, unable to block the blow.

Dan was shouting, screaming as his brother lost blood, lost life, lost will to live.

And then it was over.

Roofer struck, taking Dan's life in a moment that would be forever frozen in Ned's memory.

Dan crumpled on top of Jim, his terrible cry hanging in the air.

Lust for blood satisfied, Roofer departed, leaving their ship in tatters to match their crew.

Ned stepped forward, hearing Dan gasp, clinging onto life for one last moment.

"Don't leave me," Jim cried.

"This wasn't meant to happen," Dan said, his eyes unseeing. "I just wanted...just wanted you here with me. Jim. I'm sorry."

"You aren't dying," Jim said. "I can take care of you, I'm a doctor."

"My time is now," Daniel grunted. "I passed as I always wanted to, in a grand battle, fighting for...for honor. For you, instead of for myself."

"No," Jim moaned, tears falling onto his brother's face.

Ned stood frozen, just watching.

Dan somehow reached his hand up to take the hat from his head. "This is yours," he gasped. "You are my new captain, the new captain of this ship."

"I don't want to be," Jim gasped. "Give it to Jamison. I don't want it, not if you aren't...Daniel. Dan. Speak to me."

And everything was gone. They lowered Dan into the water, and Jim tended the crew's wounds, barely taking time to tend to the wound on his own chest.

It didn't heal well. Jim could barely look at it and it turned into an ugly white mark, as they drifted aimlessly at sea.

Jim only seemed to wake from his daze once he realized that they were in the middle of the sea and the ship was in no condition to carry them to land.

He started studying charts, trying to find them the quickest way home but it was too late. Their ship, Dan's ship, was crumbling around them and they had all the food in the world but it wouldn't see them home.

Ned watched as Jim grew ever more grim, ever more desperate, unable to sleep and unwilling to eat.

He had been handed a death penalty from his brother and he still refused to accept it or believe that Daniel could have done such a thing.

And then life was possible again.

A merchant ship crossed their path, carrying not many goods but in good repair. They followed it for a few days and struck when the time was right, boarding the ship in the dead of night and quietly taking control of it.

Jim was alive for the first time in days, no longer acting as though he had nothing to live for. He could get his crew, Dan's crew, Ned home safely. And then he could let himself drift into oblivion, let his soul and mind and body rot. Ned could see it in Jim's eyes and it scared him to think that once they were safe Jim would let go of himself.

There were many things that Ned would never forget about that night, from the shouts of the crew, to how Jim had dressed like his brother, looking terrifying and not at all like himself.

But all of that, from Jim's mood to his determinations, to his very will to live, changed when he saw the women on board.

Rather, the woman.

Melinda Gordon.

There were many things that Ned had to thank Melinda for.

The main one was saving his captain's life, not when she stood between Payne's sword and Jim's heart, but when she slapped his cheek that night on deck, knocking sense back into him, jarring his grieving heart into beating again. Beating to stay alive for the simple fact that he loved her. And that was enough.


	14. Chapter 14

Katie was still as he finished telling his story.

"My god," she breathed. "I cannot believe it."

"It is rather fantastic," Ned replied. "But all of it is true."

"I do not doubt that," she said. "But Captain Clancy...was not the original Captain Clancy. And never wanted to be."

Ned pressed a kiss to her temple. "And what about me?" He teased. "Don't you care about what you learned about me?"

She smiled at him. "Yes, but it's a bit less astounding. I imagine most cabin boys have similar tales, except they weren't friends with the future captain when they boarded."

"Are you saying that my story is unremarkable?" Ned wondered, and she leaned in, face close to his.

"Not at all," she breathed. "For a lady like myself, I'd wager, has never fallen for a cabin boy before."

He closed the gap, pressing his lips to hers, lighting a fire between them that he hoped would last forever.

* * *

Delia was in the kitchen with Tim. Melinda sighed, realizing that she should have been able to guess it.

"Delia," she smiled hesitantly, watching as the two skirted around each other, preparing a meal. She hadn't known that Delia could cook.

"Melinda," Delia greeted in return, the same shy smile on her face that Melinda had.

"Could I speak to you for a few moments?" Melinda wondered, and Delia nodded; Tim squeezed her hand in his before she went, as if wishing her good luck, and Melinda wondered at it. Was the prospect to talking to Melinda so odd, terrifying?

Delia left the kitchen, leading Melinda out to the rail closest to it.

"I'm sorry," Delia said, before Melinda could speak. "I have failed in my duties as chaperone."

Melinda opened her mouth, but Delia was still talking.

"It is too late," Delia said. "And I apologize for not staying closer to you last night. I should have known that you would be...anxious. As you were with Mr. McCall."

Melinda felt frozen.

"And a pirate, of all things," Delia said. "Tim is one, also. I do not deny that. But he never seduced me; I went most willingly."

"No," Melinda began. "I was not unwilling either."

"And neither were you with Kevin," Delia said. "From what I remember hearing. That doesn't mean it wasn't a mistake."

Melinda's stomach started to churn, at the words that Delia was saying.

"What did he do?" Delia wondered. "Did he lure you there?"

"It's not like I was the innocent one," Melinda cried out. "As you've said most clearly, I have already paid that price with Kevin."

"I just regret that I did not do my job," Delia said. "I was too caught up in myself. And now you have lost yourself to this captain."

Melinda clutched at the rail. "No," she said, voice steely. "I haven't."

"Everyone knows where you were this morning," Delia said. "And where Katie has been for the past few days. I wonder at her father, allowing it."

"Everyone knows where you've been too, and what you've been doing," Melinda cried.

"But at my age it doesn't matter," Delia said. "Katie was pure, and you, Melinda, with your looks...well, you still had a chance with the devil himself. By god, I'm not surprised you managed to enchant the worst pirate on the seven seas."

"What do you mean?" Melinda said, voice shaky.

"Captain Clancy is a name that would strike terror in anyone's heart," Delia said. "He's one of the most notorious pirates in the world."

Melinda felt dazed, remembering his words about virginity inside the cabin. Oh my god. Suppose he hadn't been a virgin. Suppose it was all an act. Suppose he was just relieved that she wasn't a virgin because it made her easier to get into his bed.

And then she remembered Ned's words to him, after the boy had finally woken up. Jim couldn't have that past.

He had a brother, Melinda thought.

"I don't believe that of him," she told Delia.

"Believe what you wish," Delia sighed. "It's too late for me to help you. I should have known you'd be in denial about what he is by now."

"As you are," Melinda choked, turning to run away. She left Delia at the rail, and her mind was spinning.

She knew, she knew, that it couldn't all be true. She knew that Jim loved her. No man could fake the way he'd touched her, looked at her. She'd been with a man who didn't care; she could tell the difference.

But there were certain things...in his past. Who could ever be sure about pasts? God knew that she had one herself.

She was running up the steps, planning to go back to her room, hide there for a few hours, pace, try to figure things out, when she ran into someone.

Jamison. He grabbed hold of her arms, looking at her. "Are you quite well, Miss Gordon?" He asked, voice amused. "Looking for your captain?"

She felt sick to her stomach. So she had become a pariah once again, just someone to laugh at. In the bedroom with Jim, feeling his hands on hers, his lips near and willing, able to soothe away her every fear...that had not bothered her.

But the face of it, talking to people, seeing how they looked at her…

She broke away from him, and Captain Gregory was there.

"Miss Gordon," he said cheerfully. "I am glad to see you up and about. It seems like life has returned to its proper place after all. With some improvements."

She was unable to do much more than nod at him.

"I will say that certain things are not as I'd fully wish, but I will take the fact that my ship survived that battle," Captain Gregory said. "As did my crew. I believe I have you to thank for that. Even if you did not do it for me."

She stumbled past him on shaky legs, just wanting to get below deck.

And then Jim was there, in her way, staring at her, bolting forward when she swayed. "Are you feeling alright?" He asked, the worry apparent in his voice, his arms sliding around her, holding her upright.

"No," she said. "I need to go below."

"I'll take you," he urged.

"Alone," she managed to say, tears in her eyes; blocking her throat. "I need to be alone."

And with that, she ran away from him, leaving him on deck, shocked and scared by her words.

* * *

Katie had left Ned's side for a moment, saw her father and talked with him. She knew that he knew. Most likely everyone knew.

But he had reached to touch her arm, a hesitant smile on his face. "You know, Katherine," he'd spoken rather wistfully. "Your mother and I did not have a typical romance either. Ned seems like he'd make a fine first mate one day, or even captain. Though I will also remind you that as captain, I can perform marriage ceremonies." He smiled at her a little crookedly. "If I had not been given a similar chance with a lady far out of my league...well, you wouldn't even be here in this moment."

She'd never heard the story of her parents' romance but Katie now wanted to, only puzzling out as to who she could ask about it.

She wandered over the ship, relishing freedom again, as voices carried.

It was Delia and Melinda.

Katie frowned as they spoke; as Delia apologized for letting Melinda ruin herself. Katie's cheeks colored a bit to realize that Melinda had already been ruined.

She would never have guessed it of the almost uncompromising young woman, who'd spoken against Captain Clancy from the first, despite the feelings that Katie could tell she held for him.

She understood Melinda better now, Katie reflected, feeling her heart break for her companion.

But then Delia kept talking, taking her apology mercilessly farther, throwing out accusations and aspersions against Captain Clancy's character. Making Melinda feel as though every move she'd ever made in her entire life was a mistake.

Katie might have been quite a young woman, only seventeen, not even at her majority, but she knew that once you found love, you clung onto it.

And she knew that Delia was merely taking out some unknown frustrations on Melinda.

Katie moved away from the rail, determined to go around the ship and interrupt the two, tell them the truth of Captain Clancy's past, but Melinda had left, she surmised.

Katie was now in a hurry, praying that Melinda didn't let Delia's words sway her from what she knew was true.

She only saw Captain Clancy and Melinda collide. Saw the way that Melinda backed away from him, as if terrified.

And Katie was angry.

She ran along the deck, sweeping past everyone, throwing the doors open to the kitchen. "How dare you," she breathed, eyes like fire.

Delia startled, again right next to Tim.

"How dare you tell her that she's made a mistake when you are doing everything and more with this...cook," Katie said. "How dare you tell her that her love is false, that Captain Clancy doesn't care for her more than he cares for his own life. How dare you say that he'd lie."

Delia just stared, unable to speak. "I….I don't believe it's your business," she finally said. "I truly don't."

"Melinda made no more mistakes on this boat than you did," Katie said, bitter tears in her eyes. "And in case you forgot, I'm pretty sure that none of us would be alive and healthy right now if Melinda hadn't acted as she had with Payne. Which, I'm sure, you would label as a mistake and something to regret if your life hadn't been saved in the process."

"Miss Gregory!" Delia said, inhaling sharply.

"I don't know why you choose to misunderstand things like this," Katie said. "I don't think you even believe yourself that Captain Clancy is what you said he was. But I will tell you this. There was a notorious Captain Clancy."

"But it was Jim's brother," Tim finished. He'd been quiet but now he spoke, interrupting the woman's drama that he didn't really care for. "Daniel. He fairly kidnapped Jim; told him that there was a doctor's position available. He neglected to say that it was a pirate ship though."

Delia just breathed in and out, looking around her as though she was lost.

"He's not a bad man," Tim finished. "Not a pirate captain even, not really. Daniel died and left the ship in Jim's hands and he just took this ship because ours was a floating deathtrap." He placed a hand on Delia's shoulder. "We would have all drowned long before reaching port if he hadn't done so."

Delia sat down. "I've made a terrible mistake," she said. "I need to go speak to her again. I was just so angry with myself. I made her go back to her own bed last night, but I did not wake when she left." She flushed, looking at Tim. "And I know why."

"Don't say that last night was a mistake for anyone," Katie said, voice a bit gentler but still harsh. "And don't speak to Melinda until later."

She swept from the kitchen like a queen, head and shoulders up and back, stately and tall.

And then she ran like the devil was on her tail, panting as she went up the steps, needing to talk to Melinda, convince her of things, tell her a story...Captain Clancy's true past.

She swept past him, still standing at the rail, hands clenched so tightly they were white, face so drawn he looked like Melinda had physically stricken him.

Katie opened the door, running down the stairs, down to Melinda's cabin. She tried the knob and then knocked furiously. "Melinda, are you in there?"

"I don't feel well," Melinda called.

"I will get the key from my father and this lock won't do a thing if you do not let me in," Katie said.

A pause and then Melinda opened the door.

Her face was already flushed with tears, and her eyes were overflowing.

Katie threw her arms around the woman; she had to be three years older but Katie felt as though she were younger; Melinda was so much more fragile, not to mention half a head shorter than Katie.

She remembered how Melinda had used to be; strict and unforgiving, scared stiff of letting herself feel anything.

And how that had changed this morning.

And how it was back to the same now, if not worse.

"I need to tell you a tale," Katie said, blurting the words out. "And I need you to listen. First of all, Delia is wrong about pretty much everything. Second of all, I'm sorry, truly sorry, that the Kevin person hurt you as he did. Third, Melinda, Captain Clancy does love you. Regardless of everything else, he will lose himself if you reject him as you did on deck today. And I don't think you want to."

"What?" Melinda wondered, and Katie pushed past her, gently making Melinda sit on the bed and then threw her arms around the woman again, holding her tight.

"I was talking to Ned earlier and he told me things," Katie said, voice soft. "So please listen."

Melinda was still as Katie related everything that she'd been told, trying to get every single detail right, telling of Dan's exploits and not leaving out a single defining battle where Jim hadn't acted as he should have.

And then she was reaching the end; Dan's death.

Melinda shuddered against Katie as she told that part, as if she knew some of this story already. Some of the pain of it.

"And they only boarded father's ship because they were about to die," Katie finished. "And one more thing, Melinda. Captain Clancy...regained his will to live that night he met you. And obviously you don't have to...if you didn't return his feelings, I would not be saying this. But none of this would have happened if you didn't feel the same way. If your love for him didn't match the love he has for you, right from the moment you slapped his face on deck."

Melinda couldn't speak.

"So listen to me, once more," Katie said. "Don't let yourself love everything you've built with him. Please, Melinda."

"It's hard," Melinda finally whispered.

Katie pulled her even closer. "What happened to you, back in Boston?" She said, her voice a bit angry at who had broken Melinda like this.

"Too much," Melinda whispered.

"Tell me," Katie said. "If you can. When you can."

Melinda pulled away, lay down on the bed and Katie stayed at her side, seated still, turning to face her prone body.

"I was three," Melinda said. "When my mother Elizabeth ran away with a man named Paul Eastman, leaving my father, Tom, and I alone. He did not recover from the shame. He abandoned me with my grandmother; my mother's mother, and went to Jamaica to make a name for himself there, leaving the scandal behind."

"Oh, Melinda," Katie whispered.

"Shh," Melinda said. "Or I might not be able to finish this tale."

Katie nodded, letting Melinda continue.

"My grandmother was...everything to me," Melinda breathed. "She gave me enough love for mother and father both but all the love in the world is not enough to change the fact that both of your parents left you behind without a second thought; that you may have been enough for her, but you weren't enough for them to stay. For your mother not to run away. For your father not to run in the opposite direction."

 _She was seven, wondering why everyone seemed to have parents but her. She was alone, told that no one had cared enough to stay with her. Told that she was a bad girl for simply living. Told that she couldn't sit next to the nice girls at school_

She paused again, trying to steady her breathing. "I grew up desperate for love," she said, voice shaking. "Already a pariah due to what my parents had done. Already an outcast. My grandmother's love could not make up for everything, though she went far and beyond what was needed."

 _She was thirteen, and her best friend was her grandmother. They did everything together, except her grandmother couldn't go to school, and that was the cruelest place. And even her grandmother's love wasn't enough to protect her from the rumors and accusations hurled at her. From learning just what her parents had done to condemn Melinda to this life._

Melinda slowly curled her legs into her chest, bringing them to her body. "My school days were torture," she said. "All of my classmates were told to avoid me, avoid the ruination that I'd bring to them, though I had done no wrong myself. I spent my days on the outskirts, pretending that I didn't exist. But it all came to a head when I was sixteen. There was this ball. Grandmother tried everything, and she got me the prettiest gown there was to be had. I was going to have one night of anonymity; the men there would be from out of town, guests at a house party a rich Mr. Toliver was having. They wouldn't know."

 _The lights in the ballroom were dazzling. Melinda had barely been able to_ breath _from the splendor of the room. The music was sprightly, meant for dancing. Everyone was welcome. Everyone was lighthearted and dancing and smiling, putting differences aside. Melinda's dress made her feel like she was dancing on air, curtsying to the men and pretending that the women didn't know who she was._

Melinda held on tighter, clinging to her legs as though they were the anchor keeping her there. "But they did know," she said. "Everything. One man pulled me aside, out to the balcony. My heart was beating like a drum; I thought I'd get a confession of love. Instead he ripped my dress in an attempt to...to...take me, because he thought that I would be like my mother, and easy to conquer."

 _Small hands, cruel anyway. A hot_ kiss, _meant to tear inhibitions from her. Tugs at her dress that turned into_ rips _, until her dress was ruined...and she along with it._

"Oh my god," Katie said. "Was that Kevin? I heard you speak that name to Delia."

"No," Melinda said, her voice growing quieter, her eyes getting glassy. "No. Not Kevin. That ball ruined me even more, though. I decided that I was tired of having a bad reputation for no reason after that, after barely escaping being...raped. There was an assistant at a shop near my house. He was...handsome. He caught my eye; I caught his. I would order items to be delivered; he would deliver them. And we'd talk. He was so interested in me, despite my past, or should I say, my parents' past. One thing led to another. Talking wasn't enough anymore. I was so desperate for love. And it seemed like he could give it to me. Like he was already. He kissed me, for the first time, and then he said that there was something better than kissing."

 _His lips were desperate, seeking hers. His hands assured her that there was no other. That this would make her be the most beloved woman of all. She just had to let him do this. His fingers found her breasts, tested their weight, made her feel such dizzying sensations that she cried out, lost in this heat. He pulled her dress up, and his trousers down, and he entered her. And it was like nothing she'd ever experienced. It was magical, made them one, he said. He said no other girl was like her. He said that she'd never feel like this but with him._

Melinda bit her lip, trying to keep her voice steady. Trying to keep talking.

"And it was, I won't deny that, though either task with Kevin was, comparably, not all that nice to begin with. But in the heat of the moment, with his eyes promising undying love, it was enough. I was happy, drunk on the desire in his gaze. I let him do anything and everything to me."

 _Stables and gardens. Picnics and late nights. Whenever he was gone, she only wished to see him again, her heartbeat counting the moments until they'd meet again, until their paths would collide. Until he'd kiss her again,_ soothe _away all worries, make her forget all of her fears._

"And then?" Katie said. "Did you...conceive?"

"Oh, god no," Melinda cried. "Through some divine intervention, I have no doubt. My grandmother passed. I was...in mourning. I didn't want to see him. He met another girl and decided he liked her better. And there I was, ruined yet again. I thought he'd marry me. He didn't. I tried, one last time. We met in the stables, and I...seduced him," she said. "Kept him there. And a Mrs. Danvers discovered us there. She...it was spread all over town that very day. I was branded many things; slut was a kind word. My grandmother's solicitors had located my mother; she'd died on the road with her lover. So then I was put on a ship for Jamaica, shoved off to meet a father who'd never wanted me. Told to tell no one about my past and I might be able to catch a plantation owner."

"Melinda Gordon, you have only one chance left," Mrs. Danvers spoke. "I don't even know why I'm bothering with a lost cause like yourself, but I suppose my kind heart can't help it. Your father is waiting in Jamaica; we sent a man to make sure that he was still living down there and he is. We did not tell him of your circumstances; merely that your grandmother had passed and you had no one to look after you anymore. He is willing to take you in. You are indebted to him, Melinda Gordon. Once you get there, tell no one anything. Say that your grandmother passed. I'm sure that your father told no one there of the scandal your mother made, and you needn't tell anyone of your days with Kevin. Once you have snared a man, made him believe you are innocent, and tricked him into marrying you, and once he has had his way with you and discovered that you are not, actually an innocent, then you can go ahead and tell him everything. It will be too late for him to cast you aside. Just time it correctly so that you are most likely to conceive. If you bear his child, he will never cast you away."

She bit her lips again. "Told that if I used my body to lure him, I'd surely ruin myself yet again," she whispered. "That I should be innocent and straitlaced. That feigned purity was my only chance after dirtying myself so extremely."

"Oh, Melinda," Katie began.

"Don't," Melinda said.

"Jim isn't like Kevin," Katie said. "Not at all."

"Do you think I don't realize that?" Melinda whispered. "I know that. I know he's good and wonderful. Even before you told me that. I know. But Katie, that doesn't change me. I am the same woman they always said I was. I can't change the past and I thought...I thought I'd be able to let it die a little. I thought Jamaica could be a fresh start; I'd become a spinster, and I would never let myself desire a man again. And then this happened. And I'm...I'm not worth him. Especially not after what you told me."

"Melinda," Katie scolded. "What is worth? How can it be measured? In terms of experiences? No. That's silly. Shouldn't worth be in what you bring? What you give? Because it seems to me like you gave Captain Clancy his life. And doesn't that matter more?"

"I don't know," Melinda whispered. "I'd just hoped...to turn the page."

"And you did," Katie said. "You found someone completely different from anyone back in Boston. Me."

Melinda laughed, startled. "I thought you were going to say Captain Clancy," she said.

"Him too, but you listen to me," Katie said. "I have just entirely ruined myself with Ned and I cannot think of something I'd rather do again. My father approves entirely and I'm pretty certain that my mother was already expecting me when they married. And my father has his faults, I do not deny. But even he knows that love is more important than clinging to stupid societal rules. More important than crushing yourself into a box because someone said everyone has to fit the same mold. Melinda, you are worthy. All by yourself. Because of your capacity to love. Because what you offer is...more than gold or silver or even virginity."

She pulled Melinda to her feet. The other woman had finally stopped crying.

"Don't let Delia make you doubt this, Melinda," Katie breathed, holding her close. "And don't let yourself doubt what you've found."


	15. Chapter 15

The sun was beating down rather mercilessly and Jim was thankful for its light, because he couldn't fathom being able to sleep tonight. Not without Melinda. Not without knowing what had happened to cause her to act as she had, tears in her eyes again.

He only wanted to help her, talk her through it. He wanted to hold her in his arms, make her feel safe and let her know how much he loved her.

Yet that wasn't what she wanted right now.

He breathed in and out, trying to convince himself that she was allowed to be sad, that she was allowed to have her own private feelings and that he wasn't entitled to give her comfort if he wasn't the one she wanted comfort from. Trying to convince himself that this didn't change things.

That she wasn't pulling away from him again.

She couldn't be.

He tried hard to keep control, to keep the panic at bay. She would keep her word. He had faith in her.

He pushed away from the rail, wondering if he dared go and try to speak to her. But no. He would not force her, in any sense of the word. She had a right to choose this relationship. He couldn't pressure her.

He wouldn't, because then he'd be too afraid that she didn't feel for him as much as he felt for her.

The vision of her being tugged away by Payne came back to his head, how she'd called his name.

He had to speak to her. Just assure her that...he was still there. That she could do whatever she needed to in this moment, and he...he would live with the results.

He would let the pieces fall where they had to.

He breathed out, closing his eyes, then walked to the door leading belowdeck, just as it swung open and Katie was standing there.

"Captain," she said.

"Just Dr. Clancy is fine," he corrected.

"Doctor," she said, eyes twinkling; she was being surprisingly bold with him considering her hesitance at their last encounter. At least it meant she had forgiven him for what he'd done.

He had to believe that locking her up hadn't been a mistake. And things might not have turned out as they did had he not locked her up.

So many little things seemed to bring one moment about.

"Is Miss Gordon still below?" He asked.

"She is," Katie said. "But you aren't needed below decks unless tending a patient."

He startled.

"Those were the rules for our former doctor," Katie said a bit slyly.

"Of course," he said, falling away and letting her pass. "Do you...know when she'll be coming up?"

Katie merely shrugged. "Trust her," she said softly. "She's going through a lot, and she's been through as much as you have to get on board this ship."

He stared at her. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that Ned told me of your past," Katie said. "And that Melinda told me of hers. You're quite the pair of broken hearts, I must say."

She patted his shoulder a little kindly. "Be patient," she said, and then walked around him towards Ned's room.

Jim stared after her. "Wait," he said. "Ned told you...everything?"

"All that he knows," Katie said. "And I...told Melinda. She needed to know."

He felt embarrassment wash over him; so she knew what an utter fool he'd been.

"Neither of us judge you harshly for it," Katie assured him. "Just wait there."

Jim groaned as she walked away, leaning against the side of the ship and covering his eyes with his hand, trying to process this. So she knew all. It couldn't be.

As he stood there, he heard footsteps and couldn't help flinging the door open.

It was Andrea there, with a woman he'd never seen before.

"Ah, Dr. Clancy," Andrea said. "I'm bringing Mrs. Lockport up for some air. Thank you for holding the door for us. I was wondering how I'd handle that."

"Of course," he said, a bit puzzled.

Mrs. Lockport was tiny, older than her brother. Short, and just small boned, she looked very fragile.

Once on deck, he bowed to her. "I am Dr. James Clancy," he introduced himself, not able to relish introducing himself like that. As Doctor. Not Captain. Not mister. Doctor.

If only he could always say that. Like he'd always dreamed.

"This is Mrs. Ophelia Lockport, the captain's sister," Andrea said. "She's had a very bad case of seasickness."

"And other things," Mrs. Lockport said, her voice a bit wavery but even toned. "Andrea got me through it, and Katherine."

"Good," Jim said. "I am pleased to hear that you are feeling better."

"We'll see if it lasts," Mrs. Lockport replied. "Now, Andrea, steer me to the kitchen. I'm rather hungry for something that isn't broth."

"Do you…?" Jim gestured to Andrea, offering help; his arm.

She shook her head, and guided the woman across the deck.

Jim folded his arms, distracted a little from the fact that he was waiting, and watched them leave. Mrs. Ophelia Lockport. He wondered that he hadn't seen her before; that no one had. But then again, seasickness was a devil to bear. No wonder.

He walked across the deck, pursing his lips, keeping an eye on the door, wondering when Melinda would come up. Wondering what she thought of him now that she knew everything.

And then some of Katie's last words returned to him...You're quite the pair of broken hearts, I must say. He knew that Melinda had demons, after last night. Mrs. Danvers. Kevin.

But there seemed to be even more to the story, from what Katie had said.

He remembered how afraid Melinda had been, yet so eager to touch him, be touched. So starved for love, just as he was. They were quite a pair, he agreed, his face softening as he remembered her. Yes, he did have faith that she still loved him.

As he thought the words, the door behind him creaked open and he turned to see her there. Her hair had come undone from her bun, and her face was still red, like she'd been crying.

But she smiled when she saw him waiting there, and he felt allowed to walk to her side, stand next to her. He reached and slowly took her hand in his.

"Katie said that you…" Melinda began, holding tight to his hand, covering the fingers with her other hand and bringing it to her chest. "You aren't the man I thought you were. She told me about Dan. Everything about him. What he told you."

He brought his free hand to her face, caressing there. "Does it change how you think of me?"

She smiled again, and he felt the curve of it on her cheek. "Yes and no," she said. "I knew that...you had to be different. But I didn't think you were quite that different."

"I'm not proud of it," he said honestly, voice raw. "No matter what I didn't realize...I was a fool. Any merchant that never docks in one of the biggest trading centers of the world...I should have realized Dan wasn't a merchant."

"You had faith in him," Melinda whispered. "It seems we both gave our faith and love to the wrong person."

He leaned closer, placing his free hand on the wall next to her head. "Tell me," he said softly. "Tell me what happened with Kevin."

"You can probably fill in whatever I didn't tell you," she said.

"But I want to know why," he said, raising her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the knuckles. "Why did you give him your heart so utterly?"

Melinda stepped closer to him, leaning her head against his chest, and he could feel her breathing; it was steady. Unlike earlier.

"I already told Katie, I don't know if I have enough left in me to tell the story again," she sighed.

He slid his arm around her, holding her close to him. This. This was enough.

"I love you," he breathed, remembering her words from last night, how no one had told her that in a very long time. "I love you very much. Every broken part of you."

She laughed against his chest, a choked sound. "Take me in your arms," she said. "Pick me up."

He met her gaze, held it, and then slid his hand from hers, moving it under her legs and holding her against his chest.

"Take me to bed," she said, her hands on his chest, flattened over his heart.

He ducked his head, kissed one finger. "Are you sure?" He whispered. "Right now? Everyone can see."

"Yes," she said. "And I am not ashamed. I want them to know."

"That's not what I meant," he began.

"I love you and I want everyone to know," she said. "I'm not going to hide away any longer."

He nodded, and started to walk, holding her tightly, feeling her against him.

They passed crew members who openly stared, nudging each other. They passed Captain Gregory, who merely nodded at them.

And then there was Delia, standing in the middle of the deck.

Melinda clung a little harder to him, before moving her head to his ear. "Let me down, just so I can speak to her," she said.

Jim nodded, letting her slip from his arms.

She walked over to Delia, and Jim couldn't hear what the two women said but both were crying before the conversation had ended. He stepped forward, but they had embraced.

And then Melinda turned back to him, placed her hand in his, tugging him towards his cabin. He followed her easily, matching her pace, letting her lead the way.

They were inside the cabin, and he closed the door behind them.

She moved about the cabin, holding his gaze, and glancing around her. "It's a very nice room," she said.

"It is," he agreed, carefully sitting on the chair. He wasn't sure what she wanted right now. And just because he wanted to romance her, kiss her, take her to bed, as she'd asked, that seemed to have changed and he wanted to give her as much time as she needed.

"I was a scandal back in Boston," she said. "My mother left my father, ran away with her lover. He went to Jamaica to escape the gossip but I was left with my maternal grandmother. I didn't have a...fun childhood. My grandmother loved me but even that wasn't enough to deflect the rumors. To change the fact that my parents left me behind."

He sighed, deep in his chest; he could tell where this was going. And his heart was already breaking for her.

He reached a hand out and she glanced at it, smiled. "There was a ball," she said. "A man tried to force himself on me because he thought that I'd be easy."

His heart clenched even more, and now she walked forward, taking his hand in hers, letting it give her strength. "He didn't even know me," she whispered, her face anguished. "He'd just heard the rumors and decided I was an easy mark."

He reached and placed his other hand on her waist, pulling her between his legs, and she sat on his lap, placing her free hand on his face.

"I don't even remember how I got away from him," she breathed. "But after that I just gave up on trying to be good. Because it wouldn't matter. And then I met Kevin. He was a store clerk and he...promised things. He'd make deliveries and I would...we would have assignations."

He nodded, tugging her closer on his lap, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. "You don't need to do this," he whispered.

"I do," she said. "Kevin and I were so close. We talked about our future. How we'd live."

"And?" He whispered. "You don't need to share...all of it."

"I'm not finished," she said. "I trusted him. More than anyone else. My grandmother passed then, and I was in mourning and another girl caught his attention in the two weeks I didn't see him."

"It broke your heart," he whispered.

"And I tried to romance him again, I was desperate and Mrs. Danvers, this busybody who was helping me arrange things, caught us. And she shipped me off to Jamaica, to my father, who never really cared, and then…" Her voice caught. "And then I met you. And I learned what love is supposed to be like. You...loved me. Even though I was broken. You made me feel safe. That night on deck, when the storm was raging around us. I've never felt so sheltered, or precious."

"I had never felt a woman that close to me before," he said. "Had never been so entwined. You set a fire inside me."

She smiled. "Are you saying you only loved me for my body?" She asked.

"No, but—" He was getting harder, as she got ever closer.

She pressed her lips to his, drowning his words. "I felt the same," she said. "And I was teasing. I know it's more than that."

"It is," he said. "And I can—"

"List all of the reasons off the top of your head?" She asked, and moved on his lap, shifting so that she straddled one thigh. "Mm, I don't need you to tell me right now. I'd rather you showed me."

She let her hands roam over his shoulders and chest, kissing him deeply, and Jim moaned as her tongue slipped over his lips, opening up to her in an instant.

His hands came up to clasp her waist, span the length of it, reach his thumbs up to brush the underside of her breasts.

"You are, you have to admit," he managed to say, in between kisses. "A rather stunning woman."

"Mm, I'm too short," she said, the words peppered with kissing.

"No, you're perfect," he breathed. He smoothed his hands up her body, cupping her breasts. "These...are perfect."

She inhaled sharply as his fingers moved over them, as he tested their weight, again in awe of how flawless she was.

"I could say the same of you," she said, pressing a kiss to his jaw, and then down his neck. "I'd never seen such a handsome man that night when you walked on the deck. I couldn't take my eyes from you."

"Nor I you," he whispered, his hands going to the back of her dress, to the tiny buttons he'd been the one to button earlier. "Your eyes were like fire, and your hand, when you slapped me, changed my whole life, I swear."

"I couldn't breathe when you were tying my robe," she said, twisting on his lap, bringing one leg up and putting her back to him so he could manage the buttons better. "Your eyes were just staring."

"Your robe has a rather strange tendency to come untied when I'm around, how could I help but stare?" He whispered, his hands moving down the row of buttons; he placed a kiss to her neck, sucking the skin there.

"It does indeed," she laughed, pulling the dress down around her waist and turning to face him again. "Your eyes change when I undress," she breathed. "It's very...arresting. I fear it only makes me want you...this...more."

She brought her hands onto her breasts, covered by her chemise and supported by her corset, brushing her fingers over them. "I want you to touch me here," she said, staring at him. "Kevin and I...we'd just shove clothes out of the way, yank my skirts up. But you…" She closed her eyes, moaning as her fingers brushed over her nipples, hardened under the chemise.

Jim watched for a moment, transfixed by this image, before he moved his hands up, brushing hers out of the way and she moaned again, louder this time as he cupped her breasts in his hands. She was such a pleasant weight.

His hands slipped up, slid the chemise from her shoulders and tugged it down until he could pop one breast from the hold of the white cloth, gaze at its perfection.

"I don't know how he managed such a thing," he said. "Not undressing you completely."

He lowered his mouth to the smooth skin, gliding over the top. "Not doing this," he murmured, swirling his tongue around her until he found her nipple and sucked it into his mouth, making her gasp, a sound that only made him suck harder, his tongue sweeping over her nipple again, making her shift on his lap, throw her head back.

"I don't even know why I wanted him, after this," Melinda gasped, as he pulled away from one breast, leaving it rosy and shiny from his mouth.

"Neither do I," he breathed, nudging the material from her other breast with his mouth, edging it down, until she grew impatient and pulled it down the rest of the way, freeing her other breast herself.

He laughed, deep in his throat. "Eager, are we?" He rumbled, and she merely moved closer, hitting his mouth with her breast, and he was unable to tease her any longer, moving to do the same things to this one as he'd done to the other, his hands going to her laces and slowly untying them as best as he could.

She arched her back when his teeth scraped her nipple, making a sound that seemed to be a cross between a gasp and a scream, her hands coming to his head and holding him there, something he didn't mind at all.

Her laces were undone and he tugged the corset off, throwing it aside and taking that opportunity to stand up, wrapping her legs around his waist as he did so.

"This," Melinda moaned as he walked to the bed. "Being held by you like this. This heals me."

He moved his mouth to her shoulder, sucking the skin there and she cried out again, moving her neck so he'd kiss there next, mark her for everyone to see.

Her dress was still around her waist as he lowered her onto the bed, and she moved onto her knees as he tugged it off, over her hips (he needed to tug a little there), and she moved to wiggle out of it, casting the fabric aside before she slipped out of her chemise, only in her pantaloons now.

She hadn't worn these last night.

She'd been bare. Utterly bare to him.

His hands moved over her soft skin, untying the ties holding them up and gliding them over her hips, moaning deep in his throat as she was revealed to him.

She gazed up at him. "What about you?" She whispered. "You look a bit overdressed right now."

"Indeed I am," he said, sitting on the bed to tug his boots off, wishing he'd done it before now because she was right there, ready and waiting for him.

She moved up onto her knees again, pressing herself against his back as he took his boots off, and he could feel her nude curves pressing into him; her breasts, flat against his back, and her waist and hips lower, pressed against him.

"I will find this a rather hard and unnecessarily long task if you keep...doing...that," Jim began, losing track of things when her hands slid around him, started to tug his shirt from his trousers. God, he had to get his boots off, and get them off he did, kicking them across the room, making much shorter work on the rest of his clothes; he had to, for how she was looking at him, and the sound she made, deep in her throat, when his shirt came off; the sound she repeated when he tugged his trousers down.

Fully nude, he got back onto the bed, moving over her, kissing her again. He could kiss her forever, he reflected, rolling onto his back and bringing her on top of him, feeling her legs spread over his waist as she straddled him. His hands came up to cup her buttocks, gliding over their bounty, keeping them there for a very long time, just feeling her.

She was the one to grow impatient from just kissing, sitting up suddenly, the sight of her on top of him, flinging her hair back over her shoulders almost too much for him to bear.

"Well, if you won't move," she breathed, since he was just frozen, watching the bounce of her breasts and the way her hands were on his chest.

She lifted her hips, moving to turn around.

"No," he whispered.

"Then hurry up," she breathed, shifting back so that her core met his arousal, a movement that made them both gasp and momentarily freeze before arching back together, only wanting to repeat the feeling.

Yes.

Yes. This was good. This was better than good.

Jim flipped her onto her back, moving over her, remembering what she'd done yesterday, how she'd taken him in her mouth. Had Kevin made her do that?

He wondered how it would work if he did the same thing to her. He'd obviously succeeded with his fingers last night, but would it be even better for her if it was his mouth?

"I need you," she breathed.

"You have me," he replied, his lips continuing to pleasure hers, sweeping his tongue into her mouth again, tangling it with hers.

He felt even harder, wondering how it would feel to do this elsewhere. If it would make her respond even more vividly than she already was.

"Jim," she panted, as his fingers found her thighs, glided up them. She was so soft. So hot and wet inside.

His lips moved down onto her neck, feeling his pulse jump just at the thought of it.

She was restless. "I need you inside me," she breathed, as his fingers slid away. "Please."

"I have a better idea," he said in return.

"What could be better?" She whimpered, her hands moving down his waist, trying to take him in her hands, guide him closer.

He steadily moved down her body, slowly parting her knees with his shoulders, spreading her wide for him.

She started to realize what he was going to do, her hips bucked up and she hit him in the jaw with the motion. "Oh, my god," she breathed, tense in anticipation. "I don't...I don't know…"

"Shh," he said, his breath blowing over the curls covering her, and she moaned, trying to keep in control of herself.

"Jim," she whimpered again, and his hand reached up to caress her breast, to calm her, to calm himself. He found her nipple, tugged at it a bit idly, before lowering his mouth.

She jerked against him, beyond startled, even though she'd been expecting it, had tensed her body in preparation. But nothing could prepare her for this.

Nothing could have prepared him for it.

* * *

She couldn't believe this. How it felt. His mouth was so hot on her, so wet. He was kissing her there, his lips felt almost unbearably good, and then his tongue joined his lips, making her want to scream from how good it felt; as it was she was clinging to him, her hands threaded in his hair; she wasn't sure if she was holding onto him to keep her sane, or to keep his head there, keep him there, pleasuring her, making her feel...beyond good. Beyond desired and loved.

This day had been long. The afternoon had dragged on and on, and she'd been so utterly miserable but all that seemed to have faded away as his mouth moved over her, bringing her closer, and this was more than she could take.

She came, shattering, bucking against him, finally finished. He tensed as she did so, as she coated his mouth with her essence.

And then he was pulling away, breathing over her.

"Enter me," she said, as the last waves faded away. "That was...unbelievable. But I want you inside me."

Jim just nodded, moving back up her body, poised himself at her entrance and entered her, and she was more than ready for him. He seemed to glide inside, it wasn't a chore at all, not that it had been last night, or this morning, but this was just easier. She was slick, ready to hold him inside her, and he was there, going deeper and deeper.

She wanted this. She wanted him inside her and she wanted this moment to never, ever end.

She loved him, she knew, and she told him so as he got ever closer.

"I love you," she said, placing her hands on his hips and bringing him closer. "I love you."

"And I love you," he breathed.

"I have found my perfect match," she said, almost weeping as he came inside her, shuddering, releasing himself. "The one I'm supposed to be with."

"You're here," he whispered. "And you are my match. Mine."

"Aye, here I am," she said, feeling his weight settle on her. He was spent, needing to rest, needing to just lay there with her for a moment.

Just a moment, though. She had a feeling they wouldn't last much longer than that before they started moving again, touching again, kissing, until they came to completion...again and again and again.


	16. Chapter 16

Melinda felt like she was in heaven. The boat rocked them gently and she was in a very soft bed, very unlike the hard mattress in her cabin, Jim's arms around her, holding her close.

He was sleeping, soft and deeply. She could feel his breath as it made his chest and stomach expand, and the quiet exhale, as they contracted. She could feel her heart beat in tune to the breaths, and she moved closer to him, burrowing into his chest, cherishing his warmth.

She had never thought she'd wake up beside a man who loved her. Not after Kevin. And now, this was the only thing she ever wanted to do again...except, perhaps, make love to him, and let him make love to her. But sleep followed that. So she would gladly never leave this bed again.

But now she grew aware of other things and sighed, carefully unwinding herself from his arm. She had a growing urge to relieve herself and she didn't plan to do that in here; she'd go down below to her chamber pot for that.

They were both still nude, wrapped in his sheets, and she bent down to pull her clothes back on, struggling a bit to dress herself, not bothering with the corset, but then her dress didn't button.

This wasn't going to work.

She cast the dress aside, now only in her chemise, and a sudden idea came to her: his trousers. It wasn't like he'd be needing them any time before she came back.

She grabbed them from off the floor, slipping into them. They ballooned on her, most obviously around the waist, and she tied them at her waist, using the extra material. It was dark. No one would see her. But if they did…

She crept to his wardrobe, taking down his coat. He hadn't worn this since the battle with Payne. Since she'd taken it off of him.

She slipped it over her slim shoulders, letting it envelope her, and then hurried from the cabin, heeding nature's call.

* * *

When Jim woke up, the bed beside him was empty. He was drowsy for a moment, not registering that that was an odd occurrence and then sat bolt upright in bed. Where was Melinda?

He glanced around the cabin, startled to see her corset, pantaloons and dress still on the floor. What on earth had happened to her then?

He had started to move from the bed, looking for his trousers on the floor, when the door creaked open again. And a pirate captain entered.

His sleepy mind didn't recognize her at first, only registering that they had a very alluring walk for a man, and that he had to get to his sword. Suppose Payne had come back. Suppose he'd taken Melinda.

The captain stepped forward, into the moonlight.

He blinked, mouth falling open. It was Melinda.

"You woke up," she said. "I'm sorry. I just had to relieve myself and didn't want to bother putting my whole wardrobe on. This was easier."

He stared at her, shocked into silence. The coat covered her, much too large for her small frame, and she was already removing it, placing it over the back of the chair, her breasts bouncing in her thin chemise.

She was wearing his trousers. That fact made him feel a little lightheaded, especially because of how the curve of her hips was revealed. They were much too large, yes, but she'd cinched them at the waist and the material was almost taut around her buttocks.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Melinda breathed, facing him again.

"I find this male side of you very alluring," he managed. "Mainly because you don't look male at all. And I first woke up and you were gone and then a pirate entered, and what was I supposed to think?"

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

"Never mind, it was just a surprise, and you didn't intend any of it," he said. "Next time feel free to wake me. I can help you dress."

She smiled. "You looked so peaceful, I hesitated," she whispered, moving forward. He spread his legs instinctively and she stepped between them. The sheet was only on his lap now and she slowly climbed onto him, straddling his waist. "But it rather seems that you're awake now."

"Aye," he breathed. "Very awake."

She was moving on his lap, waking him up even more, and she was about to lower her lips to his. Jim slowly lay back on the bed, keeping her on his chest, and she kissed him, her lips sweeter than wine, as potent as whiskey.

His hands came up to curl around her, one on her upper back, the other traveling to her hips, to rest of the jut of buttocks. This was quite a different picture of to carry around. If she'd always dressed like this…

She moaned, pressing closer to him as he cupped her, lightly squeezing her there; in response she pressed her hips upward, arching into his touch.

"I should have dressed like this sooner," she gasped, feeling his hardness as she fell back onto him.

"I don't disagree," he murmured, his lips catching hers again, in a very heated kiss.

* * *

He was the one to lay awake after; she was limp in his arms, nude once more, her breasts flat on his chest and her arms flung across him.

He had been tracking their course. They would reach Jamaica's shores within the next few days, and he'd only just thought of what would happen next.

The image of her dressed as a pirate had terrified him, as much as it had made him desire her, the thought of her as a pirate lingered. Would that be her fate if he stayed in her life? Sneaking around on a ship, making love at night and fleeing for their lives in the day? Defending the ship from invaders?

How many times would she step between him and certain death before they both paid for it?

He felt his heart still, imagining repeating Payne tugging her away; or when he dived underneath Roofer's sword to save Dan. He couldn't let either of those things happen again.

She shifted a little, sighing, her arm across his chest seeming to grow heavier. Her leg in between his, only sheets separating them, seemed to wedge closer, making him very aware of her, waking him up all over again.

The human body was very fragile. You could drown in just four inches of water. Fire harmed it. So did swords, guns, cannons.

It was highly responsive. You could feel the lightest touch on your cheek; your body would know, most of the time, what was touching it just by the sensation.

It was strong, in some ways. It could heal broken bones. It allowed one to jump, swim, run, lift things. It could move the world.

But at the very heart of it, it was fragile. All you had to do was sever the spinal cord and you were dead. One tiny injury and you'd instantly lose life.

Melinda shifted again on top of him, slipping off a little, and he instinctively grabbed her hips, moving her back on top of him, feeling himself grow even harder at the move. He had to try and sleep. He had to.

Her leg in between his shifted upwards, brushing against him, and he froze, unable to help the gasp, and that was when he heard a quiet laugh, not quite muffled by the fact that her face was in his chest.

In moments he had their positions reversed and she was pinned beneath him, eyes laughing up at him. "So you are awake," she whispered, gazing at him. "I wondered. I don't think I intended to wake you if you weren't, but I wasn't sure if you were, so I just wished to see." She licked her lips. "Were you sleeping?"

"No," he said, voice rough. "Not at all. But I would have woken very quickly with you doing that."

"I see," she said, eyes still dancing. "I'm hungry," she confided. "I haven't eaten since midday."

He leaned to press a kiss to her collarbone. "Food is a good idea," he agreed, feeling his stomach rumble as he spoke. "Do you want to wait here?"

"The kitchens aren't my favorite place, I admit," she whispered. "Hurry back."

"What do you want to eat?" He murmured, reluctantly untangling himself from her, reaching for his trousers.

"Whatever there is," she shrugged.

"You don't have much faith in the kitchen, we did bring food on board with us," Jim said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

She moved closer, again wrapping herself around him from behind, bringing the exact same feelings she'd brought last time.

"Chocolate," she breathed. "And fruit."

"Chocolate it is," he said, feeling her small hands scrape over his chest. He leaned and pressed a kiss to one, before pulling away from her, watching her fall back on the bed.

"Hurry back," she repeated, pulling the sheets up a little. "This bed is cold without you in it."

He nodded, feeling burned by the sight of her in his bed, feeling his tongue stick to his suddenly very dry mouth. He would most definitely hurry.

The ship was quiet and still. Jim wondered how long that would last.

He hurried to the kitchens, wondering what Melinda was doing now, if she was calmly waiting for him or growing impatient.

Chocolate. He thanked god that they had this; that it hadn't gone down with Dan's ship.

He rubbed his forehead, remembering that night, eager to get back to Melinda's side. If only they could live like this forever. If only the voyage would never end.

The thought paused him. What would happen when it did end?

His movements stilled and he stood in the middle of the kitchen, wondering. She was going to see her father. To live with him.

Would her father accept a marriage proposal from a pirate?

Would it be better to not even ask, to just live up to his reputation and spirit her away, and the two of them could live happily forever?

Would either choice be fair to Melinda?

He thought about it, trying to gather the fruit and chocolate, his mind on an entirely different plane. Even if she said yes...and she would say yes...wouldn't she? Even if she did say yes, was it fair to ask her to share this life? When who could know what would happen one day to the next?

Because, god knew, Jim would not be able to watch herself try to sacrifice herself for his sake again. That had shattered him once.

And he would not make her go through watching him die at the hands of a bloodthirsty captain; as he had with Dan. Living once you'd witnessed that...was no consolation prize.

No. He wouldn't let either of those options...even be options.

He took the things and started back to the cabin, pausing and looking out at the horizon. It was dark. The ship rocked back and forth, soothing him. If only this journey would never end. He wouldn't even need to be worrying about this.

A third option came, one that he knew was impossible...but he should try it.

He should ask for a pardon from the English governor at Port Royal. He should write all of his friends back home, his mother, have her call upon every connection she'd once had, and still might have.

And then they could live. Together.

He turned from the rail, not really believing any of it. A pardon would never be granted to him. And then Melinda was there, in her chemise, looking windswept and lovely, moving forward to slowly place her arms around his waist and just lean into his chest, perhaps somehow sensing his mood, why he'd taken so long; perhaps just needing comfort herself.

Or maybe simply because the water was rocking them and it was a very dark night, and it wasn't nice to be alone and cold.

He scooped her into his arms, carrying her back into the cabin. Suddenly the future didn't matter for what the present could give to him.

He fed her chocolate then; tasted it from her lips. She fed him fruit and he had never thought it could be that sweet.

And then they tasted each other, losing themselves, pretending that the rest of the world didn't exist.

* * *

And the next day, they saw land.

Ned leaned on Katie, mostly fine, mostly pretending at this point because it felt so good to have her strong arms around him, to have her constantly within arms' reach.

He loved this woman.

They moved about the deck, talking quietly, about anything and everything. He realized suddenly that they were, basically, planning on a life together. He told her about growing up the youngest of ten; she told him about how her parents had met, fallen in love, created a scandal and married, happy for a good ten years before her mother's death.

"They never fought," Katie said dreamily, glancing up at Ned. "And we never will."

"I don't want a lot of children," Ned said, hesitantly. "I do want them. But suppose something happens to me...or to you?" He pressed a kiss to her forehead as they walked. "Not more than five."

Katie burst out laughing, a very merry sound; everything about Katie was merry now, sprinkled with laughter and a dose of love. "That's a small number?" She said. "I thought you meant three." She curled into his side. "We'll take what we get. What will come will come; we'll meet it when it does." She silenced a little. "And if the worst does come to pass...I feel sure that we'd be able to care for our children. We'd love them. And that covers a lot, believe me."

He pulled her into his arms more, seeing their father watching them. "Why doesn't your father hate me?" He wondered, tilting her chin up and lazily kissing her.

"Maybe because once he was you," she said, kissing him back before they continued walking up and down the deck. "He got his start as a cabin boy aboard a pirate's ship." She grinned. "A real pirate's ship. Or no, I suppose he was a privateer."

"Ah," Ned said. "Then how did he meet your mother?"

"Well, when he grew up he decided he didn't want to be a sailor anymore," she said, smiling into Ned's shoulder. "He thought he could escape his destiny of sailing forever. The sea called to him. But I'm getting ahead of myself. His captain was well known in certain circles of society. They'd learned to like each other; the captain thought of father as a son. He introduced him to some lords and ladies. He wanted to give my father a good start in life."

"And?" Ned asked.

"Well, everything was going well," Katie said. "One of the lords was hinting about hiring him. Giving him a steady living. But his daughter...well, she entranced my father. He romanced her, and his father gave them his blessing, recognizing that love doesn't come often...he himself was in a loveless marriage and had denied several young men's requests to marry Jennifer, my mother, because he didn't want her to have the same fate." She smiled, leaning into Ned. "It was quite a scandal. She married a nobody, with her father's blessing, no less, and then father gave into the call of the sea and they set sail two months after marrying."

"It's a beautiful tale," Ned said. "You must be proud of it."

"I take joy in it," Katie said simply, guiding them to the rail, bracing her hands on it. They were getting closer. Ned felt like he could see land himself, if he tried. "I know that my parents loved each other...and that they loved me."

"He named this ship after your mother," Ned commented.

"Yes," Katie said, a frown wrinkling her brow, as if remembering. "He named his first ship Jennifer after her, and then...then after she'd died, he couldn't sail on that ship anymore. We got this one for a song; it's not the best ship, nothing like the one he used to have. He named it after her, too. I know it pained him. To replace it. But I feel like he never quite forgave himself for...for what happened that night. And the pain of saying goodbye to the good memories was quite overwhelmed by the guilt."

"I wish it hadn't happened," Ned said. "I would have loved to meet her."

"She's where I got this French lilt in my accent," Katie said.

"Though you have an Irish name," Ned chuckled.

"That's from my father," Katie said. "But my looks, my voice, my mannerisms...all my mother."

Ned looked at her, feeling his breath catch. "Then she must have been a stunning woman."

"She was," Katie nodded happily. "Though she never did fully master English as a language. I think my father said once...one of the reasons they had such a...physical relationship, before and after marriage, was because with words they couldn't always understand each other."

She swept her hands up and down her arms, looking at Ned a bit pointedly, stepping closer, her body brushing against his. "And with touch...they always could."

Her lips touched his and Ned felt everything in his body relax and ignite, simultaneously.

He swept her into his arms, ignoring his supposed injury; it was just his head, after all, and carried her to bed.

She was right. With touch he could always make his intentions known. And so could she.

* * *

Delia apologized again, her eyes soft on Melinda.

Melinda had gone down to change her clothes and Delia had been there, which surprised her. Delia had been there so rarely in the past few days, weeks…

And here she was again, brushing Melinda's hair out, helping her with a sponge bath.

"You don't have to," Melinda said.

"You just don't know why I said all of it," Delia sighed. "Why I had such a visceral reaction. I...I also loved a pirate once. And it ended oh-so-badly. There's a reason I never married, but, like you, I was not a virgin when I stepped foot on this ship."

"I never knew that," Melinda said. "I thought...you have a spotless reputation. Otherwise you wouldn't be accompanying me. Allowed to, by...her."

"No one knows about it anymore," Delia sighed. "No one remembers but me. I was a wallflower. He swept me off my feet. It was a wild week, while he was in port, and then he was killed by the military his last night there. I...he would have asked me to join him. But he was killed, for a very valid reason...he was a pirate. He'd committed crimes. He'd plundered ships...taken more than my virginity, to be sure."

She laughed a bit bitterly. "And yet...I still feel like it was different for us. Like it could have lasted. He had such eyes. They just burned a hole into me, through me, made me feel like I wasn't wearing clothes." She giggled. "And he'd tell me things, about what I'd done that morning, or late last night, that meant he had to be watching me. And it was quite scandalous but there was this tree outside my window...I was on the third floor. It was quite a tall, unclimbable tree. Or so I'd thought. I guess spending time on a ship improves your climbing ability."

She pressed a hand to her lips. "I can still remember that night."

"Oh, Delia, I'm so sorry," Melinda said, turning around to clasp Delia's hand. "That it ended as it did."

"It's probably a good thing," Delia said. "His love for me was never tested. So...I can keep on believing that he would have taken me with him."

"What was his name?" Melinda asked.

"Charlie," Delia said, her eyes softening again. "Charles to everyone else he knew. But...Charlie to me."

"I think…" Melinda began, throat working. "If it had been me...if I had to climb a tree for the one I loved...if she was shy, and not the person you'd usually notice...I think it would have been real." She placed her hand over Delia's again. "I think he would have taken you with him."

"Oh god, I hope so," Delia said, and suddenly she was sobbing.

And Melinda pulled her friend close. Because that's what they were. Friends.

* * *

Jamison knew that it wouldn't last, because she had her own responsibilities. Because life didn't work that way. Because their paths would, as they grew ever closer to land, inevitably part.

And perhaps never cross again.

He shifted from where he stood. It was quite an odd thing, how the ship functioned now. Yet somehow it all worked. The pirate crew stayed back, recognizing that they owed their lives to Captain Gregory's men. Captain Gregory's men paid the pirates deference in the fact that they'd aided in the battle against Payne.

They split the chores evenly, and every man had a bit more rest time, a little less work. There was food from the pirate ship; another gain for Gregory's men, and the pirates just seemed to...calm the ship somewhat.

For one thing, judging from a few things he'd heard crew members say, the ladies on board were occupied. And apparently before the pirates had boarded they'd had a bit too much time on their hands.

Jamison exhaled, his gaze traveling the deck, caught by the vision who was currently walking with Mrs. Lockport.

He would love to be able to call Andrea his. His wife. His partner. His lover. She had a spirit within her that he'd only ever seen back home, years and years ago.

But he'd never even ask.

He couldn't reach out and claim the love in her heart that belonged to him.

* * *

Melinda was on deck as the sun set, bringing them ever closer to Jamaica. It was a journey she hadn't even wanted to take. Now she couldn't imagine not being on this boat. And she couldn't imagine getting off of it.

She leaned against the wall of the ship, realizing that she'd be meeting her father in little less than a day, at the way they were progressing.

Her father. The man who'd fled Boston...and hadn't taken her with him.

Her father, the root of all of her troubles. Her father, the man who'd left her behind, broken her heart, made her hopes rise to astronomical heights whenever he wrote home...and fall again when he still never came. When his letters to her were about a sentence long...and eventually stopped coming.

She didn't know what to make of him. She didn't know how to process the fact that she was less than days away from meeting him. Talking to him. Hearing him explain why he'd left her. Why she wasn't good enough to get to go with him.

Even with Jim, even with the love she now knew someone had for her, she still knew, deep in her heart, that if her father had an explanation...if he could tell her why he'd left, why he'd stayed away...if he was sorry….then there was probably nothing she couldn't forgive him for.

Jim came up to her, his eyes moving over her, serious, dark, forboding. She knew that they were thinking about the same things. Could this last? Should it last? Would this be their last night together?

She grabbed his shoulders and rose up on her toes to kiss him, but his arms were sweeping around her before her lips had even reached his, and once their lips met, they were already almost inside his cabin, falling into bed, movements frantic, clothes being cast aside every which way…

And then it was slow, and they took their time. Melinda ran her hands over every inch of Jim's body, trying to remember. Trying to ensure that she'd never forget him. Never forget this. Never forget the feel of his ass under her hands as he arched into her, both moaning. Never forget his mouth on her breast.

Never forget the look in his eyes. The awe. The love. The pain.

She pressed her lips all over his face, kissing him over and over, trying to make them both forget what they both knew could be coming.

They didn't want to part. She never wanted to say goodbye to him.

But life had a funny way of overturning every wish in her heart.


	17. Chapter 17

The boat had sailed into port by dawn. Jim woke to shouts and then Melinda was scrambling from the bed, frantically grabbing at her nightgown.

"Land ho!"

There was a loud knocking and Melinda just froze, as they both prayed that the door wouldn't be opened, and then came Jamison's voice. "We've reached port, Jim. Get dressed."

Loud footsteps told that them he'd walked away and Melinda just stared at him for a moment, still in bed as he was.

And then she'd pulled her nightgown back on. "I need to get below," she said, running to the door. "I don't care who sees me."

Jim leapt after her, but she was gone, running from the cabin. Damn it. Was she so afraid of what her father would think of her? He didn't like the thought of her running off to dress herself for him, because he knew that she thought it could make a difference. But with a man like that…

Jim bit his lip, reluctantly starting to dress himself, as Ned walked in without announcement. "So you're about to meet Melinda's father," he said baldly.

"Yes," Jim said.

"And you're wearing…?" Ned asked pointedly.

"Clothes," Jim said shortly.

"Your pirate clothes or your innocent doctor clothes?" Ned asked, folding arms over his chest.

Jim froze. "I...I don't know. Do you think Captain Gregory would go along with that story?"

"He might," Ned agreed. "But I don't think it would last long. Best to get the damage over with as soon as possible. Look powerful and rich and maybe her father won't care you're a pirate. We don't really know, do we?"

Jim just nodded, taking Dan's coat down, his mind shooting to the image of Melinda wearing it, and that was enough to give him courage enough to finish dressing.

* * *

Delia and Andrea were helping her; Melinda wasn't sure why, because they both had low opinions of her father, from what Delia knew and the little Andrea had heard.

But there was a dress, the one dress Melinda had packed that was formal, a relic of her grandmother's. It had been redone; and it was literally the one thing in Melinda's wardrobe that could impress him. Make him think she was worthy.

Mrs. Danvers had insisted on her packing it. That should have been clue enough for Melinda to cast the dress aside and not even pack it, but her heart was pounding and all she could think of was what her father might say to her.

Would he apologize?

She knew she shouldn't feel this way. She knew, deep in her heart, that for all that he had hurt her, he deserved no forgiveness and no feelings of love.

But oh god. She wanted his approval. Just once.

She clung onto the bedframe as Delia laced her corset tighter than it had been for this whole voyage, gasping as air left her lungs. Andrea helped her with her skirt and the jacket and there was a hat...to hide her seaswept hair.

And then Andrea brought out a tiny mirror, giving Melinda a glimpse of herself. And she didn't quite recognize the almost terrifyingly beautiful and highborn woman in the mirror. Almost didn't believe it was herself. Almost didn't want to be her, even for a moment.

Katie didn't quite believe her eyes when Melinda stepped up on deck, looking haughty, highborn and terribly beautiful, her cheekbones emphasized and her waist so small that Katie winced to think of how tight her corset must be.

She wasn't at all like the miserable Melinda who'd first boarded the boat, dressed in her plainest cotton dress, hair never dressed in more than a bun. She wasn't at all like the Melinda who'd slapped Dr. Clancy.

Because this Melinda was so terrifying that he would never have given her cause.

She could tell, upon a closer look, that Melinda's dress was a good forty years old, probably something her grandmother had worn during her first season out. But it was close enough to the styles of the day to make an impression of wealth and beauty.

If Tom Gordon was the awful man Melinda had said he was, yes, this would undoubtedly impress him.

She reached to squeeze Melinda's hand, and Melinda was white faced, terrified for one instant, before a mask slid over her face. She still squeezed back, fingers tight in Katie's, her eyes sweeping the deck for Jim.

Katie wondered what was taking Ned so long. Why dressing Jim would ever take this long.

She wondered how long it would take for word to be sent to Tom Gordon that his daughter had arrived; they'd sent off a boat to announce who they were and what their cargo was, and surely some of the men at the port would recognize her father's boat.

They were sailing closer, docking. Sailors and pirates worked together to get the boat in, anchor it, get it near the dock.

The gangplank was lowered.

Katie frowned, taking her father's arm, ready to depart, when Jim's cabin door opened and he strode out.

If Melinda was terrible, Jim was terrifying, blue eyes and sword at his waist glinting. He'd dressed in Dan's pirate coat, hat, gloves, boots, everything, and Ned had brushed them, made them look more than a little expensive.

He was every inch the pirate captain. He wasn't denying anything and Katie felt a moment of panic, wondering why he wasn't going to slip through the crowd unseen as a humble doctor but Ned just winked at her as he jogged over to her side.

'What is Jim doing?" Katie hissed.

"The truth would come out sooner or later," Ned muttered. "Might as well be an honest pirate."

She huffed out a sigh of frustration, wondering how on earth this could turn out.

* * *

It was obvious that Melinda and Jim weren't quite sure what to do with each other in their grandeur.

Andrea watched in amusement as Jim's ability to breathe seemed to suddenly stop upon spying her, his eyes traveling over her suddenly hourglass figure, up to her bursting cleavage, and down to her swelling hips, all encased in the most expensive dress he'd ever seen her in, with a hat that shaded Melinda's face and made her look so high above him that it was almost irreconcilable with the girl they knew.

And Jim. Melinda's eyes were so wide under her hat; she'd clapped a gloved hand to her mouth upon seeing him dressed like a pirate again, but even more this time, everything glinting and Jim looked terribly tall as he strode across the deck.

Andrea stifled a smile as he stopped right in front of her.

"Miss Gordon," he said, voice stiff, as if everyone hadn't seen her running from his room in her nightgown that morning.

"Captain Clancy," she breathed, and she saw his jaw clench in response to the cool greeting.

"I suppose your father will be coming to fetch you," he said.

"Indeed," she replied, jutting her chin up.

"Then we should perhaps say our goodbyes," Jim said, and that got a reaction from both of them.

Melinda lunged forward, protesting that statement with her whole being rather than her mouth, and Jim's arms reached to enclose her for such a brief moment that if you hadn't been watching you would have missed it.

And then Melinda was jumping away, hurrying to the gangplank, joining Delia, hurrying down after Captain Gregory.

Andrea followed gracefully, guiding Mrs. Lockport.

She felt Jamison's eyes watching her, turned a little and smiled at him. She'd talk to him later.

* * *

Melinda had no idea what she was doing as she let one of the sailors help her from the boat, feeling Jim's eyes on her the whole time, staring at her, at what she'd become. And she so wished to return the stare, meet his gaze, return to the all too brief moment on deck that she'd been in his arms.

But she had to do this right. She had to see if her father was worth it before she returned to Jim. She owed to the twelve year old girl who'd cried every night because her father wasn't there and she didn't know why .

She had to find out why.

She had a vague idea that Tom Gordon was supposed to live near the port, that it shouldn't take long for him to be notified, especially since the man sent to tell him had been gone for a long time now.

So would he be there soon? Ready to greet her? Would he sweep her into his arms and apologize for leaving her all those years ago?

Would he need her as much as she still needed him, as much as she hated to admit it?

Delia was walking at her side, and something else came to Melinda's mind…

She could be pregnant. After all those times with Jim, she could most definitely be pregnant.

She licked her lips, wondering how this had slipped her mind before now. What if she let Jim leave? Pretended it hadn't happened?

What would she tell her father if she was pregnant?

She felt faint at the thought of bearing Jim's son, of holding a babe that had his dark hair and light blue eyes.

It would change everything.

And as she still thought this, as her mind still spun with possibilities to the point where she was pressing her hand against her very flat stomach, a man on horseback came riding up. It looked like he'd come from the fields, from supervising his workers. He wore a white shirt, neat pants, expensive looking gloves and boots.

And then he was halting in front of them, jumping off of his horse, and she felt choked, because she knew that face. It was the face in the painting of her mother and father on their wedding day. It was the face that had haunted her dreams.

It was her father.

He was striding forward, looking at the group of people there. "Captain Gregory," he greeted, sticking his hand out to him, and the two shook hands. "You brought my daughter with you."

"I did indeed," Captain Gregory replied, stepping aside, gesturing to Melinda behind him, she was frozen in place.

"My god," Tom Gordon breathed, staring at his daughter.

Melinda's heart was leaping in her chest and she found herself reaching her hands out to him, begging for him to love her.

He walked forward, his eyes sweeping every inch of her, and she knew that impressing him with this dress was the correct move. "You are a lady," he said. "I knew that you had to be but I was still somehow thinking a little girl would step off of the boat."

"Hello, father," Melinda stammered.

He frowned when she stumbled over her words. "Turn around," he said distractedly, and she slowly did so. "You are fully grown up," he said, staring at her dress, at her figure, at her cheekbones and eyes and lips.

Another horseman rode up, the rider jumping from his horse and leaving it next to Tom's. Her father's.

"I am so excited for this," Tom told her. "I have planned for a ball in your honor, it has been in the works for weeks now. I have a dress prepared for you, but I see it will have to be taken out…" His eyes were on her chest and hips. "And then in. What a figure you have, Melinda. Nothing like your mother."

"A dress?" Melinda managed to say. "You're hosting a ball in my honor?"

"It's not every day the richest plantation owner on Jamaica's only daughter comes home," Tom said distractedly. "Ah, here he is."

"Who?" Melinda asked, watching as the rider grew nearer.

"The man that you are to enchant enough that he proposes marriage, though I'm not worried about that anymore," Tom said. "The second richest plantation owner's son."

The man was drawing near; he was tall, lanky, with a shock of curly hair.

"Tom," the man greeted.

"Eli, how is your father doing?" Tom asked. "Still well?"

"Aye," Eli replied, but his eyes weren't looking at Tom at all, they were solidly on Melinda, his gaze hungry on her exposed decolletage.

"I see you've noticed my daughter," Tom said happily. "This is Melinda. Melinda, I introduce you to Eli James. You'll open the ball with him as your first dance partner."

Eli bowed and Melinda found herself curtsying, hearing a sharp inhale behind her, because this was nothing she'd ever indicated she could do, but here she was playing a high born lady, a virginal high born lady, and she was fooling everyone but those who she'd travelled with.

Or maybe they thought that they were the ones who'd been fooled.

She wanted to look behind her, she wanted to find Jim's eyes in the crowd but Eli had stepped forward, taking her hand, drawing her up to standing again. "Your father has been talking about you for ages," he said, his words low. "I don't think I ever thought of you like this, though."

He pressed his lips to her gloved hand and Melinda tried hard to not flinch away from it, again only wanting to turn around, run to Jim.

Why did...Eli...greet her like this before her father did?

"Indeed," Melinda whispered.

"It is very good to meet you," Eli said.

She only nodded her head, her eyes meeting her father's, pleading with him, but he ignored the gesture.

Eli backed away from her, keeping his eyes on her the whole while, and her father swept forward to take her arm. "So there were no incidents on the voyage?" He asked Captain Gregory baldly, his eyes sweeping past him and onto the rougher looking crew. To Jim.

"None," Captain Gregory said, lying through his teeth.

Melinda's heart skipped a beat.

"Very well," Tom Gordon answered. "I'll be taking my daughter home then. I invite all of you to the ball tonight."

"Tonight?" Melinda asked, voice aghast.

"I've been planning it for weeks," Tom said. "As soon as I heard you were coming." His gaze again swept the deck. "As I said before I was interrupted, you are all welcome tonight. Anyone can tell you where my plantation is."

She didn't understand any of this. He hadn't yet said, not really, whether he was actually happy to have her here and yet he'd been planning a ball, telling Eli of her.

And then it hit her.

He was going to marry her off to Eli first thing. Join his property with the second richest plantation owner's and get a lot more of the island under his control.

And she was the person who was going to aid him in that.

A horse drawn carriage pulled up, and her father was guiding her there, mindful of her skirt as he helped her in. "We'll take this to go home," he said. "And the dressmaker should already be there."

Melinda turned back to face the deck, feeling just a bit lost, realizing that she was reaching her hand out, as if begging for someone to rescue her, as if her body recognized what her mind was having trouble processing…

That this wasn't what she wanted. That Jim was what she wanted, come what may.

He was moving forward, slowly edging around the crowd, as if about to approach, but then the carriage started and Melinda let her hand fall back into her lap.

And Jim stopped, not about to run after it, not about to make a scene when that would only mean trouble for the both of them. He nodded at her though, blue eyes searching hers, making promises that she wasn't at all sure that he could keep.

And then they left him behind.

* * *

Why did you leave me, father? Why did your letters stop coming? Why wasn't I good enough for you?

But she hadn't gotten to ask any of those questions. Her father had spent the whole ride boasting of his wealth, as if trying to assure her that he'd succeeded where her mother had failed; not even as a gesture that he could provide for her, she didn't get that feeling from him. Because he didn't seem to care .

She existed. Fine. He'd use that to his advantage.

But did he love her for her existence?

She bit back tears, alone in a bathtub since the maid had slipped out, and then gave in, letting tears slide down her cheeks. Why had she thought things would change? Could change?

She wanted Jim. She wanted him to hold her, reassure her that she was loved. She wanted Delia's comforting arms and sharp words, because at least that meant that Delia cared . She wanted Katie's naughty grin and Ned's easy smile, and she wanted Andrea to reassure her that life could go on.

She wanted the rock of the waves lulling her to sleep. She wanted the open sea, and the slap of the water against the boat.

She wanted Jim.

The maid (or was she was slave?) came back into the room, tutting at her for what little progress she'd made, digging her hands into Melinda's hair and washing it, her hands firm and impatient.

Oh god. This was going to actually happen.

The dressmaker herself was there, a Madame Jacqueline who frowned at Melinda's figure and snapped at her assistants. Melinda merely stood still and let them dress her, first in a silk chemise, and the tightest laced corset she'd ever worn, which left her gasping for breath and in shock for how much it elevated her breasts, and then petticoats were layered on, and then the dress was pulled out.

Melinda felt quiet shock. This dress was the most expensive garment she'd ever worn. It was soft and beautiful and promised pain for how tight it would be. Yet she'd look like a queen.

And she'd feel like a whore, every part of her body that her father thought of as valuable on display.

He didn't care. She knew that now. This whole time she'd been fooling herself. He had been angry and embarrassed when her mother ran away. And he'd left her behind because he didn't care .

She stared at herself. It wasn't quite the style of the day; waists were higher now, so maybe Madame Jacqueline had outdated dress patterns, but it was close enough, impressive enough. High waisted, low cut, seemingly made completely of lace and silk. She wanted to feel beautiful.

Her hair was done up in tight curls, a bun, with a few ringlets escaping from it.

She wanted to feel beautiful. But she remembered her father's words before leaving the room, make her irresistible and shuddered. She didn't wantthis . She hated this.

It was her first night and he was already trying to sell her off like one of his possessions. He was already capitalizing on her beauty, the pure fact that she was a woman, that the only thing she had to offer him was a good offer for her hand in marriage. When he couldn't even give it. Not really. Not anymore.

He opened the door to her bedroom, stopping stockstill when he saw her there. "You look beautiful," he said simply. "Turn around."

She did so reluctantly, still not sure how to take his blatant appreciation, how he was looking at her. At his own daughter. Like she was something to sell at market, like he was sizing up the price she'd bring.

"Come here," he said impatiently, holding out his hand.

He led her down the stairs, down to the open ballroom. The doors opened; someone announced them and it struck her how pretentious this was, how they weren't royal, they were American and didn't believe in royalty but he was pretending, making a show, making them both seem far more important than they'd ever be, even if he was rich. The richest plantation owner in Jamaica. It didn't mean anything .

She saw heads turn, saw people whisper, saw women turn away in jealousy and men stare like she was meat , ready to be torn into.

The orchestra was playing beautifully. There were candles. She desperately wanted to enjoy this moment, wanted to take it for what it was, for what society always had been. She'd always wanted to feel like she belonged. Like life accepted her.

And she had a feeling that, if she hadn't met Jim, learned what real love actually was, how it felt to give and receive it, she might have been fooled.

The orchestra started a new song, and Eli was there; her father was handing her off to him. She placed her gloved hand in his, thanking god that he wouldn't touch her there like Jim had, thanking god that something still separated them. Because she didn't hate Eli. She didn't know him. She couldn't judge him but she could still see him for what he was: a rich landowner's son who'd never known trouble, who was using his height to look down her dress, and whose footwork was incredibly sloppy. He stepped on her foot once, twice, and she finally pulled back a little, until he pulled her back.

"What are you doing?" He whispered. "Don't let me seem like a weak dancer."

You are a weak dancer, Melinda reflected, but let him pull her back to him, feeling her breasts brush his chest, trying to not flinch away. The song finally ended. Another man took her hand; Shane, she thought his name was. His eyes bored into her and honestly frightened her with their intensity; his grip on her hand and at her waist was so strong she feared he'd bruise her, and she was relieved when the song was over.

And that was when she saw Ned, out of the corner of her eye.

And she didn't believe her eyes for a moment, turning with a jerk away from her next dance partner's outstretched hand.

But he was there, winking at her. Katie was at his side, dressed in a party dress, simple but good enough for a merchant's daughter. She could suddenly see Captain Gregory, remembered her father's words on the dock, and her heart leaped.

She turned fully away from her next partner, lifting her skirts, trying to not be too obvious as she walked to greet them, her eyes desperate. Delia wasn't there; well, she was unlikely to have appropriate clothes. And neither were Andrea or Jamison. But by god...Jim had to be there.

She choked back a desperate cry, because she didn't see him and then there was a claiming hand on her shoulder and she knew her dance partner had caught up with her, reluctantly turning to face them.

And it wasn't. Or it was.

It was Jim.

* * *

His heart was beating painfully in his chest to see Melinda like this because she was so heartbreakingly beautiful. She was even more impressive than earlier, and that had been enough to have his heart pounding from how elegant she looked, from how shocking it was to see her like that.

On the dock she'd surprised him by being a new person, almost. Grace personified. Stiff manners; a perfect curtsey. A figure that would be the envy of millions of women, and a face shielded by a hat, hiding her emotions from the world.

And here she was surprising him again because she looked more vulnerable than ever. Vulnerable and terribly fragile, but also…

He wouldn't be a man to not recognize how beautiful she was. He'd never expected to see her hair like this, piled so high on her head, an erotic picture for how it left her neck bare, open to him, skin promising to be soft, delectable...he knew it was.

The neckline was shockingly low, and her corset was extreme, pulling her waist in to almost impossible proportions and her breasts were jutting above her neckline so high that he almost couldn't breathe for how much he just wanted to touch them, lower his mouth to them, release her from this cage.

Because the dress was beautiful.

But it was a cage nonetheless.

He watched her dances, his arms folded tightly over his chest, hating how trapped she looked, hating how they treated her. And then she saw Ned and started over to him and he could see her searching and his heart leapt in his chest when he realized it was for him.

And his heart broke when he placed his hand on her shoulder and she didn't realize, at first, that it was him, turning around with a look of resignation on her face.

And then she saw the buttons on his coat. Her gaze travelled up his chest, to his face, and the smile on her face, immediate and beautiful, full of love and relief, pierced the very heart of him and he pulled her into his arms and started to dance as the next song started.

The waltz was a very new dance. Luckily, it was just scandalous enough for Dan to have learned it, and Jim was remembering his steps now, moving lightly about the floor, realizing that even if he was messing a few things up, he wasn't stepping on her feet, and they seemed to be floating.

And suddenly he knew why dancing was a popular past time, why balls were held to get young women married off, because it was intoxicating to be able to hold the woman you loved this close in a public setting.

And he did. Love her, that is.

Her eyes had stars in them, her cheeks were flushed, and she was pressing closer to him, her lips parting, and he could feel her breasts against his chest. His chest felt painful, and he only wanted to pull her closer, press her lips to his, bring her to the point where she'd forget all about this damned ballroom and the people in it.

He hated her father, he reflected dully, as the song came to an end.

And she noticed her next partner coming, her eyes turning to panic, before grabbing hold of his collar to pull him down and whisper in his ear. "Meet me in the garden when the musicians pause," she breathed, before slipping away from him, keeping his gaze for a moment longer.

And then he noticed her father watching him and he slipped out of view again, walking across the ballroom where he couldn't be seen.

This plantation was ridiculous and pretentious. He wasn't sure why anyone would spend their money building something like it. When he thought of having money, of having time, he wanted to, maybe, build a home but not a ball room .

He shook his head, keeping to the edges, watching as Melinda danced with several other clods of partners, before the musicians finally paused; the crowd separated, started to talk and she somehow got away from her partner before he realized where he was going.

Jim turned desperate eyes to Ned, who simply nodded, walking across the room to where Tom Gordon was just about to start after Melinda, before he walked outside moments before Melinda did, and the sight of her in the moonlight brought to mind so many memories of their time on the boat, of where they'd been entangled just last night that he moved forward, pulled her into the shadows and he fully intended to speak to her, reassure her of everything he felt, would always feel, how everyone in there was insane and cruel, but she was so close, and her arms soft, reaching around his neck, asking him for comfort.

So instead he kissed her.

And she was sweet. Sweet and softer than ever, her sighs against his lips driving him mad, making him only pull her closer, cursing the corset for keeping her body so trapped, so unyielding; keeping it so that his hands were on her waist but he'd bet she couldn't feel them for anything.

And he loved her.

"I love you," he whispered, tearing away from her, needing her to hear the words, but her eyes were filled with lust, and her lips were plump from his kiss, red, swollen, and she pulled him desperately back to her.

"Oh, Jim," she breathed, kissing all over his face, on his neck, to his chin and lips again. "Oh, Jim, you don't even know how much I love you, now more than ever."

He needed to be closer to her and this dress was so damned constricting, and she kept having to pull back, wincing, and he was angry, that her father thought her figure had to be faked like this, when he knew fully well that she looked best unfettered, when she was most herself, most natural, and every single time she leaned up to kiss him she ended up gasping in pain, falling back on her heels from where she'd risen on her toes.

His eyes were dark, meeting hers, and his fingers were on her bodice; her eyes were wide.

"I've got more dances," she breathed.

"Say no," he told her.

She stared up at him, before reaching out and running her hand up his thigh, making him stiffen in surprise, before he realized that she was taking the dagger there; he was pretending to be Dan, after all, and he'd worn the dagger.

"Use it," she said, holding it to the bodice.

He had never felt such satisfaction as when he ever-so-carefully pulled the knife down the bodice, slicing the first layer of fabric, baring her white undergarments to him, the stiff boning on the corset, and she winced again and he was so angry, slitting the chemise, pulling it down, and there her breasts were, beautiful, perfect, and she moaned when he ran his finger up and down one before pulling it free of its cage.

He groaned when he saw the red tip, felt its softness, and she was arching towards him, offering herself to him, and he, a promise in his eyes, holding her gaze while he lowered his head, let his lips capture it, making her cling to him, her hands buried in his hair, clutching at him.

Oh god, it had been less than a day since he'd been with her but it felt like an eternity because of those long hours spent apart, wondering if he'd ever even see her again, talk to her, feel her against him like this, arching under his touch.

He couldn't live without her.

And she was pressing ever closer to him, gasping, moans caught in her throat, and oh god, he wanted to pull them from her, bring her to the point of release.

And he was hard, pounding between his legs, needing her heat, her passion, pressing himself against her, caught by her damned skirt, and thatwas when they heard a throat clear.

That was when Jim felt someone wrench him off of Melinda, felt a punch land on his face, fell gasping back onto the ground while a boot landed on his chest.

And he just wanted to get back to Melinda, who was clutching at her bodice as her father sneered at her, cursing her, and it was Eli who was keeping Jim there, keeping him down, and this was somehow worse than when Payne had done something similar because Melinda hadn't been half so vulnerable then.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, mauling my daughter?" Tom Gordon asked, and he heard Melinda try to speak, heard a resounding slap as she was hit.

And Jim knocked Eli to the ground, seeing how distracted the man was by Melinda's hands flying up to her face, for a brief second forgetting the ripped neckline.

And it did , it did look bad, and he was her father and no matter what a damnable man he was, of course you'd hit first, ask questions later if you discovered your only daughter in the arms of a pirate like this.

But he'd slapped her. He'd slapped Melinda for trying to speak .

Eli fell with a grunt to the ground and Jim was charging forward, grabbing Tom by the throat. "How dare you strike her?" He hissed. "You're the one who's mauling her. You're the one who's hurt her over and over, breaking her heart every time you didn't even care, breaking her heart by treating her like a prized ox rather than your flesh and blood . How dare you," he said, voice breaking, seeing how Melinda was looking at him. "She's yourdaughter . How can you use her like this?"

His wrath didn't last long. He let Tom slide to the floor, turning to Melinda, and she opened her mouth to speak.

Jim pulled his coat off, Dan's coat off, and placed it around her shoulders, covering her, leaning to press a kiss to her bruised cheek.

"My love," he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers. "I'm sorry."

"Not as sorry as you're going to be," Eli said, and Jim saw black.


	18. Chapter 18

He woke up still in the garden, slapped awake by Eli.

Melinda was still there, clutching his coat to her body.

"Who the hell are you?" Tom Gordon asked.

He wanted to reply that he should ask his daughter. That he should talk to his daughter. "James Clancy," he rasped.

"Are you a pirate?" Tom asked.

Jim closed his eyes for a moment; the world was spinning in front of him. "Yes," he said.

He opened his eyes and realized that there were more people in the garden now; Captain Gregory and some vaguely military looking men.

"Have you committed any crimes?" Captain Gregory quickly intervened.

Jim shrugged. "What constitutes crime?" He wondered aloud and Gregory's lips twitched.

"He took over my ship," Captain Gregory said. "But as it was a crime against me, and I do not wish for him to be punished for it, it should not be considered as a crime. If need be, I am willing to state in court that I gave the ship to him."

Tom glared at Captain Gregory, before looking at Jim again. "So that is how you met my daughter," he said.

"Yes," Jim replied.

"And you seduced her into your bed," Tom said. "Took her virginity, plundered her."

"No," and it was Melinda who said it, choking the words out. "Please, father. Don't speak like that."

"Do you have any idea how much harder it will be to marry you off now?" Tom spat at her. "When Eli has seen you like this?"

"Who said I wanted to marry him?" Melinda asked him, her voice anguished. "When did I say that I came here to be married off? Why can't you look at me as a person and not a bargaining chip?" She was outright crying now, a tortured sound. "Why did you leave me behind, father? Why didn't you love me enough to take me with you?"

Tom was staring at her in disgust. "Be quiet," he said. "This behavior does not become you."

Jim strained to comfort her, but he was bound, hands behind his back, tied to a chair.

"No, father, this does not become you," Melinda said. "And he didn't seduce me, I went willingly, and for that matter, he's not even the man who took my virginity!"

Silence. Eli was staring at her, fascinated, or horrorstruck, Jim couldn't tell.

"Not that it matters to you," Melinda said. "Because if it did matter to you, you wouldn't have left me in Boston all these years! If you cared about me, none of this would have happened."

Tom listened, face blazing, trying to process this news. "What the devil are you talking about?"

"I'm not a virgin, yes, but that was long before I stepped foot on the Jennifer II," Melinda said, chest heaving.

"You lied to me," Tom said. "I thought you were an honorable woman, you're my daughter."

"As if you are an honorable man," Melinda spat. "As if you ever were. Why do you think my mother left in the first place?"

Tom stepped forward, about to slap her again and Jim cursed aloud, thanking god when Captain Gregory stepped in between Tom and his daughter.

"No man would ever marry you now," Tom said.

"I would," Jim said, voice raw.

"You're a pirate, not a man," Tom said coldly. "What life could you give her? One of pillaging? Letting her watch while you rape the native girls?"

"I would seek a pardon," Jim ground out. "From the governor."

"As long as I'm living, you'll be granted no pardon," Tom said. "I know the governor very well. He would sentence you to death in an instant if I told him to. And then my daughter would be a widow, as well as a whore."

Jim strained against his bonds again, not sure what he'd do if he actually got free but with a vague idea that he'd try to kill Tom.

"So what?" Eli interrupted. "I'd still marry her."

Silence.

Eli was staring at Melinda, and Melinda stared back at him. "No," she said, shaking her head.

"Done," Tom said. "Melinda Irene Gordon, you listen to me. If you marry Eli tomorrow, then I won't kill your precious pirate. If not, he'll be beheaded first thing."

"No," Melinda said.

"Melinda, I'd rather die than have you trapped like that," Jim said, voice loud. "Don't do this. Not again."

But he knew what her answer would be. Her face was filled with anguish and terror, before she looked at Eli, at her father again. "You have to buy him a boat," she said, voice shaking.

"Why the hell do you think you're in a place to bargain?" Tom asked.

"Be silent," Eli snapped, looking at Melinda again.

"You have to buy Jim a boat," Melinda said. "A fine one. One that will take him home to England. And you must convince the governor to have him pardoned."

"Don't do this, Melinda," Jim begged. "Please."

Melinda was stepping forward though, eyes on her father, and then Eli.

"Consider it the dowry," Eli said. "Buy him the damn ship. I can talk to the governor myself."

Tom looked at Eli in horror, but Jim wanted to scream when he saw how Melinda was shrinking back again. She didn't want to do this. Just because Eli was doing this didn't make him honorable.

"Your land and my father's will be joined," Eli said. "What the devil else do you need?"

Tom strode forward, facing Jim. "You listen to me, pirate. Melinda is going to be married tomorrow and you're going to sail off on the ship that I'm going to buy you. And you will never see her again, or I'll kill you both."

"No," Jim said, shaking his head.

But then Melinda was pushing past her father, placing her hands tenderly on Jim's face. "We'll see each other again," she whispered. "I'll be with you again. It won't seem like such a long time. This is just your path now."

"No," Jim said, voice shaking with anger and love and frustration. "I don't want to. I cannot leave you here."

"She'll have a good life," Eli said, clamping his hand on Melinda's shoulder and Jim wanted to scream, again, because he was touching her and Jim couldn't.

Melinda's face was filled with tears and they started to fall and Jim's heart was screaming at him to take her into his arms, but he couldn't, and Melinda was shaking her head at him. She looked at Eli, and then back at Jim. "You have a journey to take," she said. "And so do I. We just can't be together right now." She was working to get the words out. "It's our fork in the road, until we meet again."

"No, no, my road is with you," Jim said. "And I cannot leave you here like this. My journey is you. That's the choice I've made, and am making right now."

"You will die if you stay here, if you refuse this," Tom said, voice cold. "Stop the blubbering. Do you want to break her heart even further?"

"I don't want you to stay here," Melinda said. "There's no way to win this."

"You don't believe that," Jim said, tortured. "You can't."

"You can never see her again, no matter your choice is," Tom said. "Death or exile. At least let her know that you'll live."

"Please," Melinda said, voice breaking. "Don't make this harder than it already is. You know what you have to do. What you have to let me do."

Eli was placing his arm around her and Jim felt bile rising in his throat, and Captain Gregory was stepping forward. "This isn't fair," he said.

"It's an agreement," Eli said. "Between two families. It doesn't concern you."

Gregory faltered.

This was it. It was over. Jim bowed his head.

"Untie him," Tom said. "I don't want him here any longer. Gabriel!" He snapped his fingers, and a darker skinned man came hurrying out of the shadows. "Go buy Mr. Clancy a boat. Sorry. Captain." He glared at Jim. "You should have anticipated this before you became a pirate," he spat, and took Melinda's arm in his. "Be here tomorrow, Eli."

With that, he dragged Melinda from the garden.

When Jim was untied it took everything in him to not run after her, but Eli was there, and Captain Gregory, and Gregory's eyes pierced Jim.

"She's chosen this to save your life," he said gruffly. "Don't make her regret that choice."

Jim turned away, angry tears coming down his face, barely even able to breathe. No. No. No. This couldn't be happening. Not again.

* * *

Melinda let Tom pull her from the room, his grip like shackles around her arm and just as unforgiving.

"Why are you doing this?" She asked as he swept through the ballroom, devoid of all of his guests. She wondered what they'd been told; if he'd sent them home before ever going out into the garden.

"Because you're just like your mother," Tom hissed, yanking her into his side. "A whore."

He spat the words at her, meaning them to be the worst condemnation.

"I think you mean slut," Melinda managed to say. "I never sold favors for money. I gave them all too willingly."

He raised his hand again but she was finding strength she didn't even know that she had. "If this is how you behaved towards my mother, I am not surprised that she ran away from you," she said. "You disgust me. And lay another hand on me again and I'll kill myself before you can ever get Eli's money."

She yanked her arm from his grip, using his shock to break free. "And I am a slut," she said. "And I'm finally realizing that it's not something I need to be ashamed of."

She then picked up her skirts and hurried up the stairs, her legs carrying her faster and faster to her room, where she slammed the door shut and then shoved a dresser in front of it, chest heaving, trying to breathe.

Jim.

She was going to lose him forever.

Tears came to her eyes and she let the jacket slide from her shoulders, staring at herself in the mirror; at the ruined dress. She raised a hand to her bared breast, almost touching it, remembering how Jim's mouth had felt there.

She would never experience that again.

She ran to her trunk of clothes, knowing that there were scissors in it, and painstakingly cut through the layers of fabric, struggling like the devil with her corset, before she was finally out of it, finally free.

But never free again.

She was going to marry Eli. A man she didn't even know. A man that she didn't care about. And maybe he was a good man; she honestly didn't know what to think of him offering to marry her after learning of her past indiscretions, with knowing how madly in love with another man she was.

There had to be something wrong there, in his brain. Because otherwise she just didn't understand this. Any of it.

She walked to the window, halfheartedly pulling the blanket from the bed and wrapping it around her nude body.

This would be her life now. Even if she was Eli's wife, she'd have to live near her father. She'd have to see him. She'd have to tolerate his presence, knowing forever that he did not love her, that he'd never loved her, and he didn't care how much he hurt her.

This was the truth of her life.

Melinda inhaled, thinking that she'd cry because of it, but the cold honesty of it all...was oddly comforting. Because she knew. It was no longer a mystery. She knew, finally, that it wasn't her. It wasn't about her not being good enough. Because it had nothing to do with goodness.

And it had everything to do with her father having a heart that didn't seem to work properly.

Now the tears came, as she reflected on those terrible moments in the garden after Eli had struck Jim. Now the tears came, as she remembered the anguish in his voice, on his face, written on every part of him, from how his muscles strained to free him from where he was tied, to how he'd verbally battled with her over her choice.

She didn't want to do this. More than anything, tomorrow she wanted him to interrupt the ceremony, sweep her away, have them be fugitives.

But she'd chosen this. She'd forced him to recognize that choice and she would never have him come to rescue her if it meant his death.

Right now the only choice for him to make was leaving. Taking the ship and running away. Leaving her there. Leaving with his life intact, even if his heart was broken.

Who knew. He might meet another lost soul like herself, and maybe it wouldn't end as badly this time.

* * *

Katie hated seeing Jim like this, pacing like a caged tiger in the inn they were all staying at.

Her father was standing in the doorway, perhaps unconsciously standing in Jim's way of leaving. Jamison was near him, arms folded.

Delia and Tim were huddled in the corner, speaking in soft voices, and Ned was staring out the window. They hadn't been there for what had happened in the garden; Tom Gordon had shoved Ned aside and he'd gone to find Katie, make sure that she was fine, and then they were caught up in the military showing up and making everyone leave the ballroom, insisting that there was a dangerous situation.

And now this.

Melinda was to marry tomorrow. And she wasn't going to marry Jim.

Katie walked over to Ned, threading her hand through his. "I guess it's not the best time to speak to my father," she said.

Ned cleared his throat. "No. But we may have to anyway. I don't think he planned on staying much longer and...I need to tell Jim before he leaves as well."

His eyes were dark with accusations when he looked at Jim.

"You want Jim to fight for her," Katie said softly.

"Of course I do," Ned said. "If it were you...I would die before I let you marry another."

"And then you'd be dead, and what good would that be?" Katie said dryly. "And wouldn't that break my heart more?"

Ned stared at her, as if seeing her anew, and then just pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her shoulder. "My god, Katie. This is going to kill him. And how can I ask your father for your hand at a time like this? Jim barely survived losing Dan. He will not survive losing Melinda."

"This is his own path," Katie sighed. "I don't like it either. But he has to choose where he goes next."

She grabbed his hand and tugged him over to her father. "We have something to tell you...ask you," she corrected. "Both, I suppose."

Ned smiled at her, and her father straightened.

"I can see what's coming," he said softly.

"I love your daughter," Ned said simply. "More than life."

"And I love Ned," Katie said. "More than I could ever imagine loving someone."

"We want to get married," Ned said. "But not without your blessing and permission."

"You don't need my permission," her father replied. "But I'll give you my blessing."

"Well, we do," Katie said shyly. "Ned just turned eighteen, but I am still seventeen."

"Then you have it," Captain Gregory said. "There's something I want to ask of you both, though. Ned, I know that you will want to...want to keep traveling with your captain. With Jim. Right now I want to ask you to consider becoming my first mate. That way...I could be close to my daughter. I'd even leave my ship to you when I pass on."

Katie's heart jumped, never before contemplating that this wouldn't have to mean leaving her father, and Ned saw her face and his own softened.

"I would love to say yes to that," he said. "But…"

"Don't worry about me," Jim said, crossing the room. "I am not your responsibility, Ned."

"That doesn't mean I'm not worried about you," Ned snapped. "That I'm not afraid you won't let yourself fade into oblivion like you did before Melinda."

"I won't," Jim said stubbornly. "I wouldn't do that to her. I'm going to stay alive, stay in these waters until Eli dies, or until I kill him, and then I'm going to go back and take her with me."

"Don't be a fool," Jamison said. "You'd lose your life before you ever reached her."

"But why not try?" Ned said, throwing the words out there. "Yes, Jim. Let Melinda keep you alive. Go back and rescue her. Why the hell are you here, waiting for her to marry another man when you could go and take her right now, play the pirate that you are? What is there to lose, Jim, when Melinda is what you have to gain?"

Katie saw every emotion pass over Jim's face, saw that these were words he'd thought to himself long before Ned spat them at him.

"Do you think I don't want to go back to her?" Jim said, voice angry. "Do you think it's not taking everything within me right now to not just go to Tom Gordon's house, break down the door and find her? But I cannot do that to her, Ned. Not only because she told me not to, begged me not to, but because it would mean condemning her to my life, to this life, to running from port to port, running from the law, running from other pirates, with the risk of losing her life every single day. I cannot ask her to share this life."

Jim was breathing hard, hands clenched in fists. "You don't know what it's like," he said. "Your soon to be father just offered you a job as first mate. I won't get that, Ned. I'm condemned to this life; Tom Gordon told me in no simple terms that he'd block any attempt at a pardon before I even asked."

"There are people higher than the governor of Jamaica," Captain Gregory said dryly.

"So you think that I'm giving up?" Jim said. "Well, what if I do go back and get a pardon? How the hell long would that take? And in the meantime, Melinda has to live like a pirate. Running from the world, and all of its people. And we wouldn't be able to ever have a normal life. She grew up with that, you know that. Being mocked and spat on. I cannot condemn her to that life again. I won't."

His voice broke. "But that doesn't mean that I don't want to," he said, tears in his eyes. "That I don't want to just let it all hang, even before this happened. That I didn't want to simply sail straight past Jamaica and pretend that it didn't even exist, taking Melinda with me anywhere and everywhere. So don't talk to me about rescuing her. Because any life that I could give her after right now...that would be no rescue." He turned to go up the stairs, eyes blazing. "And Ned? Take the job. You are no longer my cabin boy."

He swept out of the room, allowing no room for debate.

Katie clung to Ned's hand. "Let him go," she whispered. "Please. He's hurting right now."

"We can find someone to marry you two tomorrow," Captain Gregory said. "And we can leave for Boston the day after. I'm not waiting around for more trouble."

He smiled at them, reaching out to embrace her and she could feel the tears in his eyes. "You're all grown up," he breathed. "Just like your mother. I...you looked just like her when you pulled Ned over here to declare your intentions. You are so like her."

Katie just nodded, as her father pulled away and slowly embraced Ned. "If you are to be my son, I could not ask for a better one," he said softly. "Now go to bed. Separately. This is one night you'll spend apart."

* * *

Jamison stood in the corner of the room, watching as Delia and Tim got up and went to bed, until the only ones left were him and Andrea.

"This is where our paths separate," he said, voice low and rich. "Which you understand."

"I do understand it," Andrea said. "I'm just relieved that you do."

She smiled at him, standing up and walking across the room to him, slowly sliding her arms around him. "I cannot leave my responsibilities," she whispered. "Not Katie, not Ned, not Mrs. Lockport. And you cannot leave Jim."

Jamison tilted her chin up, gazing at her perfect face, finally lowering his lips to hers, tasting her. She was so good, like wine and heat and perfection, all mixed up.

"Your ship will come to Boston one day," Andrea said. "Our paths will cross again. And when they do, then we can be together."

"I'm holding you to that," Jamison said. "I'm going to remember you, dream about you, every day and night until then."

"Good," Andrea whispered, skimming her fingers over his chest. "Now let me give you something to remember."

His eyes widened, and he kissed her again. "What do you mean?" He breathed, his large hands finding her waist, loving that she was only a few inches shorter than him; something that couldn't be said about most women. Kissing someone like Melinda, for example, would likely break his back, but Andrea was tall, proud, only an inch or two shorter than Jim, bringing her much closer to Jamison's height.

"I mean take me to bed," she said.

* * *

Delia clung to Tim's hand the next morning, not quite sure that they knew what they were doing. But she couldn't imagine taking that journey back, leaving it all up in the air like that.

And he would do anything she wished; besides, he liked this place.

"We're going to stay," she said simply. "I doubt that we'll see much of Melinda, but at least we can try."

Captain Gregory and Jim listened to their words in silence.

"And even if Melinda weren't here, we'd be stayin'," Tim said. "This island has always called to me. I don't want to leave and my lovely bride doesn't wish to either. We're going to make a life here."

It was early, and no one had truly slept, except perhaps Jamison and Andrea, who were only now leaving the same bedroom, looking rumpled and pleased with themselves.

Ah yes. Love. Delia smiled to see them.

"May I have your permission to leave your noble crew?" Tim asked Jim, who only nodded, clapping a hand on Tim's shoulder as if in congratulation and giving Delia a brief embrace.

His eyes were rimmed with red. He looked terrible.

"Your ship will be ready soon," Captain Gregory said. "It seems that Eli has been working all night to make sure that you leave today."

Jim just nodded, rubbing a hand over his face; he was in his shirtsleeves and Delia idly wondered where his coat was.

"So...you're really going to leave Melinda here," Tim finally spoke.

"I have no choice in the matter," Jim ground out. "Or at least...my choice is to abide by what she decided."

A slave came in then, clearing his throat to announce his presence, telling that he'd been sent by Eli.

"You are to leave before the master Eli marries at dusk," he said. "Or everything is off."

With that, he left, his words hanging in the air.

Delia could see the strain in Jim's hands as he somehow resisted punching something or someone.

Ned stepped forward.

"No," Jim said. "Go get married. Don't mind me."

With that, he left the inn; they could see through the windows that he was headed to the docks, in the opposite direction as Melinda's, and they all breathed a sigh of disappointment.

Ned looked at Katie, and his face softened. "He's right, my love," he whispered. "Let's go get married."


	19. Chapter 19

Melinda woke up all alone for the first time in days.

She rolled over in bed, reaching out for Jim, to find his strong back and curl back into it, but she almost fell off the bed before she bolted upright, realizing that there was no sway of the ship, that this room was much brighter than his cabin; the bed much bigger.

And Jim wasn't there. That was the hardest part and biggest difference.

She stumbled out of bed, her legs feeling shaky, sore. She felt sick to her stomach as she walked to the window, wondering what she'd see from her window, shrinking back when she saw horse riders approaching the house.

She didn't want to know who they were, who they carried.

She walked to her trunk, grabbed her brush and tugged it through her tangled hair, her arms aching by the time she'd finished. This was actually happening.

And she wasn't going to cry.

She wouldn't let Jim regret this choice and she wouldn't let herself regret it either. They'd meet again. They had to. Someday. When her life had passed, when Eli was gone, she could leave Jamaica and search for Jim.

It would happen.

Or maybe he'd come back for her.

Unless you die in childbirth, came a sly voice. You really think that Eli won't get you impregnated as soon as possible?

She swallowed, choking back revulsion at such a thought; the thought of anyone but Jim touching her like that. How she knew that no one could make her feel as he had.

She held the back of her hand against her cheek, imagining it was his, before hearing voices outside and going back to the balcony.

It was Eli, and someone she guessed to be his father, and her own father. They were arguing.

Something about how the boat was ready. Eli's father was angry, wondering what Tom had done to convince his son to marry Melinda; he didn't want the marriage to happen.

Melinda shook her head. "That makes two of us," she whispered. "More than two."

"What about the pirate?" Tom was asking Eli.

"He's to leave before dusk, which is when the minister agreed to wed me to Melinda," Eli said.

Dusk.

She had hours to go. It should have relieved her but instead her stomach hurt even more, at the thought of all of those hours of waiting. Dreading. All those chances to back out.

All the times she'd have to force herself to stay there.

* * *

Delia and Tim signed Katie and Ned's marriage license as witnesses; Ned and Katie signed Delia and Tim's.

And then Katie walked up the aisle, wearing her prettiest dress; a green frock dotted with flowers. Ned grinned at her, and took her arm in his after her father kissed her goodbye.

They said vows that would last forever, pledging to love and honor their spouses; promising that nothing but death could part them as long as they lived.

When Ned kissed his bride, his wife, he thought he'd never tasted anything as sweet as her lips.

The minister coughed and Ned pulled away, keeping Katie tucked into his side as they left the church. "I'm going to take my men and get the ship ready to sail," Captain Gregory said, smiling at them. "Mr. and Mrs. Flaherty, my best wishes. If you ever need anything, just get in contact with me."

He then looked at Ned. "And Mr. and Mrs. Banks…" His throat worked and he leaned to press a quick kiss to Katie's cheek. "Go celebrate, without me around."

And Ned, needing to celebrate, needing to forget who they'd be leaving on the island…

He grabbed Katie's hand. "Come on," he said, tugging her away, hearing her laughter peal and her father's deep chuckle. "I saw this grove of trees," he said as they ran, eagerness in his voice. "And as much as I love the sea, I want to make love to you on solid ground for once."

They'd passed it last night on the way to the Gordon plantation last night, and Ned remembered exactly where it had been, since last night it had taken everything in him to not stop with Katie on the way back.

But he'd waited.

And now it was going to be perfect.

It was private, he could tell. Someone owned it and trespassers weren't allowed.

He tugged her through the trees, both ducking their heads, until at last they were in a splash of sunshine, surrounded on all sides by thick trees, hiding them from view.

Ned's eyes darkened as he looked at his lovely wife, so tall and slender, but with her lovely curves in all the right places.

He licked his lips, reaching his hand out to her, and she shook her head.

"Come here, Katie," he whispered.

"Wait," she teased. "I want to do this."

"Do what?" He asked.

"Undress for you and take all the time I want instead of rushing," she said. "See you in the light of day, every emotion that passes over your face."

His throat jumped.

"Sit down," she whispered, using her finger to push on his chest and he swayed backwards, dropping onto a stone.

She reached up for her bun, the flowers woven into it, starting to tug them free along with the pins. "Don't let me miss those," she whispered, as her hair tumbled down to her shoulders, kinky from the bun it had been twisted into.

"Take off your jacket," she whispered, and he did so, hands fumbling, then again watching as Katie started to unbutton her dress; the buttons were in front, and she slowly revealed her chemise and corset, shoving the material to her waist.

"Your shirt," she said, and he whipped it off, watching with lips parted as she continued to undress, layer after layer, having him go along with her, until he was in his trousers and naught else; and she was just slipping out of her corset, only a chemise left.

"Take it off," she said. "Take the chemise off of me."

Her voice was breathy, intoxicating, transformed by the lust she felt for him right now.

He stood up, walking forward, putting his hands on her waist and keeping his eyes on hers as he started to pull it, bunching it up, until it was gathered around her waist and he tugged it over her head, hissing as she was revealed to him.

She was his wife now.

There was something inside of him that still couldn't believe that.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, and Katie...she could make him forget anything. Anything.

* * *

There was nothing like being made love to by one's husband, Katie reflected drowsily as Ned moved into her, again, their third time.

She never ever wanted this afternoon to end. This magical, wonderful, lazy afternoon, spent in the arms of her lover, her best friend.

"I love you," he promised, his hands over her breasts again.

"I love you more," she breathed. "But the sun has moved from getting higher to moving lower and now we need to start thinking about getting back to father."

"Don't bring up your father," Ned grunted, and she moaned, feeling his mouth on her neck. "As much as I like him, don't bring him up."

"I mean it," she breathed. "And we...we need to be there when Jim leaves. If he leaves. I need to see what happens. I don't want...I can't let him leave Melinda here. No matter what."

Her eyes on his were intense and Ned just shook his head. "You talk too much," he said, pressing a kiss to her mouth, letting his fingers join another part of his anatomy in making her come, and, well, it didn't take long after that.

Not to mention she couldn't really think about anything but him for several minutes afterwards.

* * *

Jim stared out at the new ship for the whole day, not budging an inch. His men were transferring their goods to it; and Captain Gregory was restocking the Jennifer II.

They'd both be departing at sundown.

Jim had just been looking out at the water, at the ebb and flow in the bay. The waves were luminescent, heartrendingly beautiful, and the way the water continually met the shore and then swept out again…

It was like life. Full circles.

He didn't want to leave Melinda behind.

He'd been racking his mind, his heart, his everything, trying to figure out a way to bring her with him. Trying to figure out a way he could trick her father, escape with her, but he could think of none.

And it wouldn't solve much. It would be against everything he told Ned last night. He didn't want to give Melinda that life.

He pressed a hand into his face, suppressing all emotion.

Would he ever even see her again?

The ship bobbed up and down in the water. In his current state, Jim couldn't imagine every boarding it.

* * *

She was somehow convinced to let the maids back in, and they forced a bath on her, frowning at the bruises marring her body, obviously thinking it Jim's work.

It wasn't. Well, the one on her neck was. But that was beautiful. The ugly thing marring her wrist...that was all her father.

She sat down slowly at the vanity as the maids left, dressed in a fine red dress. She'd be getting married today.

And for the first time in forever, she wanted to talk to her mother.

She closed her eyes, summoning up every memory she had of her...which weren't many. There was just this vague sense of words that Beth had spoken to her, a scent in Melinda's nose that somehow only meant mother to Melinda.

"You must love, and be loved."

Melinda felt her heart stop, feeling like her mother was in the room with her. She inhaled sharply, looking around her.

The scent.

She inhaled, seeing a vase of flowers that a maid had left. Hibiscus.

Had that...had that been Beth's perfume?

Was that why Melinda could suddenly remember things she'd previously had no idea even existed in her mind?

She inhaled again, closing her eyes, bringing herself to the past.

And it was like she was three years old again, watching her mother run into the room, dressed in traveling clothes, a cloak on her shoulders, smelling strongly of perfume.

Hibiscus.

"I don't want to leave you," she whispered, wrapping Melinda in her arms; she could feel the heaviness of her traveling clothes. "But your grandmother will love you. And we'll come back for you." Her arms were tighter. "Your father and I."

Paul appeared in the doorway behind her. "Beth…"

"Come say goodbye to your daughter," Beth said, voice tight.

"Why can't we take her with us?" Paul asked in frustration. "She's my daughter, not his."

Melinda flooded back into the moment, hearing voices and her father stepped into the room.

She wondered if she'd imagined the whole thing, but she felt sick, dizzy, and she looked at Tom Gordon, seeing him anew yet again.

"Are you even my father?" She asked, voice shaking.

He stared at her. "What the devil are you talking about?" He snapped.

"Was Paul Eastman my father?" She asked, standing up and clinging to the back of the chair for strength. "And how did my parents die?"

Tom was staring at her, dumbfounded. "You little bitch," he said. "You're more like her than I thought."

"Answer me," she said, the words almost a scream.

"Fine," he said, striding forward. "She slept with him, he deserted her and I married her when she was desperate, thinking that I could make her love me. But he returned, after years, and she went away with him without a second thought, saying that scandal was better than a loveless marriage, that running away was better than...better than staying with me."

He was right there, looming above her, and she wasn't scared anymore.

"You're going to do right by me," he said, eyes cold. "You will see this through."

His hand closed over her wrist again.

"Yes," she finally breathed. "I will do right by...by my father."

Something flashed in his eyes.

"I never knew Paul as my father," she said simply, and his hand fell away. "But why did you want me to come then?"

"Because I never saw Paul as your father either," Tom said, eyes wary.

Melinda swallowed. "Tom...father...I want to do right by you and I will. I promise. But prove to me that I am not wrong in accepting you as my father and not Paul."

His hand reached for hers. "How?" He asked.

"Let me do right," she begged. "By you. Let me heal this whole thing."

* * *

It was sundown. Dusk.

Jim was inside a tavern, too angry to even let himself get drunk.

Jamison appeared beside him. "It's time to go," he said gruffly. "Captain Gregory is departing, don't you wish to say goodbye to him? And...time is up."

"I know," Jim said, shoving his stool back and finally letting Jamison lead him from the bar.

Katie and Ned were fairly glowing on the deck, and Jim bit back every bitter feeling, honestly feeling happy for them in this moment.

"So you're leaving Melinda here," Katie said, voice a bit tight.

"Yes," Jim said simply. "She wants it this way. And I—with the little I have to offer her, I cannot make myself take her with me. If I even could without losing my life."

She threw her arms around him. "I hate that you're doing this," she said. "But I understand it. I'll never forget you, Jim."

She'd never called him that before. She was so slim in his arms, so comforting and lovely, and he wanted to cry because she actually cared for him, and not just for Melinda's sake and he didn't know how he'd lived without love all of these years. Even this kind of love.

Maybe especially the love in the tight embrace that Ned gave him. The frustration in the younger man's arms as he pulled Jim in. "Don't lose yourself," he said fiercely. "Promise me or I won't let you set foot on that ship."

"I promise," Jim breathed.

"Jamison, Bobby, watch out for him," Ned said sternly. His eyes were wet as he pulled away. "I wouldn't have anything that I do right now if you hadn't taken in a ratty boy on the London streets and let him adventure with you," he said. "Be that man again. See if you can find him."

Jim could only nod, pulling away, shaking Captain Gregory's hand. "You are the best man I have ever met," he told him. "I stole your ship out from under you and you repay me by being one of my best friends. I...can never thank you enough."

"You'll have more to thank me for," Gregory said and pulled Jim into another embrace. "I'm going to get you a pardon, by hook or by crook. You didn't choose this life and I am not letting you accept this fate. My wife's family still holds power in France and England and if it means seeing their granddaughter more frequently, they will aid your cause in all ways possible."

He met Jim's gaze. "You will be a doctor again," he said sternly. "Maybe on my ship?"

Jim couldn't even speak. "I wouldn't say no," he said, and Captain Gregory just nodded.

He clasped Delia's and Tim's hands tightly. "You're a good man," Delia said, a bit desperately. "Melinda knows that better than anyone else. And you were worth it, no matter how it ends."

The words puzzled him, but he took them at face value: she was giving them her blessing, albeit late. Too late for it to matter.

"You were a good captain," Tim said. "Better than Dan. You saved your men; that has to mean something."

Jim just nodded, before the words slipped out. "But I didn't save her."

"Who says?" Tim asked. "Seems like she knows what she's doing, knows what choice she made. At least…" He flushed a little, glancing at Delia. "At least she experienced love. Real love." He reached for Delia's hand, clasping tightly.

"I'll try to believe that," Jim merely murmured.

"Do believe it," Delia said fiercely, stepping forward and placing a hand on his arm, halting him. "She can hold onto your love forever, knowing that...it was real and true. Knowing that someone felt for her as you do."

Jim let a smile twist his lips, before following Jamison onto the ship.

"We'll meet again," Captain Gregory called. "You'll yet be my ship's doctor."

The sun was beginning to set as they cast off, and Jim felt raw, looking at the dock behind him, the group of people there. He would miss every single one of them.

Yet the one he'd miss the most wasn't even there. The woman who'd left a hole in his heart, in his soul, in his life…

He stared at the water, staying on deck for a long time, watching as the sun blazed over the sky, as the island slowly grew smaller, as they left Melinda behind.

He turned away from the rail. Oh god, he didn't care if it was too late. "I want to go back," he told Jamison. "Please."

But Jamison just shook his head. "We still have time to figure it out," he said. "You, Captain, need a pardon before we go back."

"No," Jim said desperately. "I want to go back now."

Jamison took hold of his arm. "Jim."

"I won't leave her there, I was crazy to not risk everything," Jim said, and Jamison just shook his head.

"You risked all you could afford to," he said.

Jim broke away from Jamison, not listening to the man's words, going straight to his cabin.

He opened the door and slammed it shut behind him.

"Melinda, I can't imagine life without you," he said, voice raw. "I can't."


	20. Chapter 20

The words hung in the air of the cabin, and Jim slowly looked around him, seeing how full of light it was, how much bigger.

His throat hurt, and he didn't dare glance at the bed. He didn't want to see how empty it would be.

"Melinda," he breathed again. "I'll come back for you. No matter what it takes."

"Oh, Jim, I know you would have."

The voice, so like Melinda's, surely his imagination, stunned him to silence and then he whirled around on one foot, and Melinda was jumping from the bed, running to him, and he didn't understand how it was happening, but she was here and she was real, because her arms were around his neck, warm and eager.

And he lifted her in his arms, wondering if he was imagining this whole thing.

"Are you real?" He whispered, begged, as she started to press kisses all over his face, from his forehead to his jaw.

"Yes," she said.

"How?" He breathed, holding her ever tighter, feeling her legs tight around his waist, her lips on his neck before she moved them up, dragging her lips over his cheek, before finally letting her lips fall onto his.

Her lips were hungry, desperate, and she immediately opened her mouth to him, leaving him to taste her, sweep his tongue inside her mouth, still not sure if it was real because how could it be?

He brought her to the bed, falling back onto it, Melinda on his chest, rolling them onto their sides and then parting from her, pulling back to stare at her.

She was wearing a simple white gown, lacy and fitted.

"I learned things of my past. Tom isn't my father. He married my mother knowing that she pregnant," Melinda began.

Jim pressed another kiss to her jaw, just needing to do that, before pulling back again, his heart beating at a triple speed.

"And he hoped that she would fall in love with him but...my father came back and she left with him, and they were going to take me," Melinda whispered, licking her lips. "They were going to come back for me."

His arms tightened on her, hearing the vulnerability.

"And Tom was tortured by it," she breathed. "I believe that he didn't used to be like this. I don't know. But I wanted to fix it. I wanted to apologize to him for how my mother acted."

"You owed him no apologies," Jim said insistently.

She smiled, reaching to place her hand on his cheek and he almost couldn't breathe from how good it felt to feel her touching him.

"I asked him to let me go," she said. "Instead of condemning Eli and I to what he and mother shared. And I told him how much I loved you. And how…" She licked her lips again, moving closer. "And he was angry and I don't think he ever wants to see you or me again and we most definitely can't ever go back there." She moved even closer, pressing her body to his. "But he let me go. And I was going to you, but you weren't on the dock and Jamison...told me to wait here."

"I'll kill him," Jim muttered, almost sitting up. "Did everyone else know too?"

She bit her lip. "Maybe?"

"I'll kill them all, letting me go on that way," Jim said, but he didn't mean any word of it. He understood them not telling him.

There was such light in her eyes, on her face, and she was clinging to him.

"You love me," she whispered, awe in her voice.

"I do," he said, leaning and pressing a kiss to her jaw, next to her ear. "And I still don't quite believe I'm not dreaming."

"I'm sorry," she said. "For last night. I didn't...didn't want to."

"You did what you had to...for us," he said, pressing his forehead against hers. "And that's all that matters...now that you're here."

"What would you have done if I wasn't here?" She asked, her hand flattening on his chest over his heart.

"I was two steps away from killing Jamison and taking over the wheel myself, and steering us back," he said. "I was going to take you with me, no matter what. But...no. I was going to get a pardon and then come back. Come back when your father had nothing to hold over my head."

"But I'd be married," she whispered.

"Not willingly, and that doesn't count in anyone's eyes," Jim said. "Not God's. Not the law's."

She smiled at him. "We're going to be pirates together," she whispered.

He shook his head. "No," he said immediately. "No, I'm not letting you ever make a sacrifice like that again. Not like with Payne. Not in the garden." His lips fell to her neck again, and then he dragged them up to her mouth, kissing her until she gasped, winding herself around him, one leg arching up to wind around his hips again. "Oh god, Melinda, I forgot about that part. I can't let you live this life."

"Shh," she whispered, pressing her lips to his again. "Jim, I don't care what we do. I don't care where we go and if you get a pardon or not...doesn't matter at all to me. To be completely truthful, I'd be happy never leaving this cabin again if I could be with you."

"As would I," he whispered. "But I think we'll have to."

"Jim, I don't care," she said. "What life brings us, what happens...happens. We'll be together. Egypt or New York. Boston, London...we'll be together. And I can't imagine a bigger or better life than that."

"But what if we don't make it?" He whispered.

She just smiled, curling her leg around his waist. "I think we will," she whispered. "Have faith, Jim. In us. In the world."

And then she pulled his lips to hers, arms winding tight around his neck, and their lips met.

Being without Melinda had washed all of the colors from his world, made him think life no longer worth living.

Being with her again seemed almost impossible, like an extremely vivid dream, where the very colors in the cabin seemed brighter, more vibrant because Melinda Gordon existed, and was in his arms right at this very moment.

He never, ever wanted to let her go again.

* * *

He was so warm, so real, body hot and firm around hers, arms pinning her in, sheltering her.

"I love you," he breathed. "Have I told you how glad I am that you're back, that this moment ever happened again?"

She pressed her lips to his neck. "You can show me instead of talking so much," she gently teased and his eyes darkened.

"That's a good idea," he breathed, capturing her bottom lip between his, tugging on it. She whimpered as his hands roamed over her, feeling the white gown, going to the back and testing the fastenings. "This is the most frustrating dress," he hissed, pulling away.

Melinda lay on her back, just laughing for a moment. "Actually," she breathed. "It opens in the front."

His gaze grew dark. "An even better idea," he murmured in return, and placed his mouth on the swell of her breast present above the neckline. "You are so good," he said, starting to untie the laces on the front of the gown, breath coming faster, and her heartbeat leapt in response to his.

She couldn't imagine loving him more than she did.

"I want to have children with you," she said suddenly, assuredly.

And he just stopped, frozen, his hands on the ties of her dress just finishing their task.

"That's all I could think about, actually, when father was going to make me marry Eli," Melinda said, clearing her throat. "About how I could already be pregnant, with your child, and how...I didn't want him to be the father."

Jim breathed out in a huff, a shaken sound. "Are you?" He asked.

"I don't know," she whispered, moving to the waistband of his trousers, to where his white shirt was tucked in, slowly beginning to tug it free. "It's too soon to tell, I think."

She flattened her hands on his taut stomach, feeling the ridges there. "I love you," she said again. "I never wanted children before now. They were a fact of life; every woman owes them to her husband, and so if I married, I knew I'd have them eventually but I was scared. Afraid that I'd ruin things like my parents had."

Jim's hands were finally moving again, finishing with her dress, tugging it down over her shoulders. "And now?" He asked, gently moving off of her and helping her shimmy out of it the rest of the way, very much cooperating with each other to get the damn thing down since it was tight at the waist and small was one thing her hips weren't.

She smiled up at him, wondering how she looked to him right now, with her hair completely mussed up, and practically stuck in her clothes. "I know I won't," she breathed. "Not with you around."

"I couldn't...I want to be a father," Jim began. "Desperately. A child of my own…" He licked his lips. "Someone to love, to receive love from...a boy with your eyes."

"And a girl with yours," Melinda whispered. "Bluer than the sky."

She was finally out of her dress. "At least we didn't have to use my dagger this time," Melinda began, ready to make a joke of it, but Jim's gaze darkened.

"I don't want to remember that night," he breathed. "And neither do I want to forget."

His lips landed on her neck, kissing her, opening his mouth to taste her, suck at her skin, letting his lips travel down, and then up the hill of one breast, tugging a taut nipple into his mouth through the fabric, until she moaned, one leg arching up to wrap around his waist; he was still above her, and he gasped as she tried to press herself to him.

"Melinda," Jim moaned, finally getting at the laces of her corset and getting that off too; and then they were both distracted in getting her chemise and bloomers off, until she was finally undressed before him.

"Your turn," she whispered, propping herself up to watch; this time he didn't get caught in his boots, pulling them off in two quick jerks, slowing down on the trousers, watching her watch him.

He honestly didn't think of himself as anything special, but Melinda was sighing, reaching to stroke one finger down his length. "This…" She whispered, swallowing a bit. "This is good."

And that was almost enough to send him entirely over the edge, feeling himself swell even more, slowly pushing her back onto the bed, his head again moving to her now bare, finally bare, breasts. "I love these," he groaned, his breath a hiss.

Her hands were on his shoulders, feeling the skin there, the muscles, how hard it was, reflecting that she could write an entire essay on them alone, before she ran out of words to describe how much she loved his shoulders, before realizing that there was no way they could ever properly be described.

Just like her love couldn't be described. How the sea was bottomless. There was no end to Melinda's love for him.

"Hurry up," she whispered.

"We have the rest of our lives," he told her, quite seriously. "I'm never going to hurry with you again."

The words, heavy in meaning, made her breathe in, seeing the glory in them for the first full time. "We do have forever, don't we?" She asked.

"Until the end of the sea, at least," Jim said. "Until our ship sinks, but that won't happen."

"The end of the sea," Melinda mused, moving her hands, resting them on his chest, over his beating heart. His head over hers, and she could feel him at her breast, making her heart pump faster in her chest. "We'll reach it someday," she said. "You'll get that pardon, Jim. And then we'll raise our children in the countryside and you'll be a doctor."

"I'd like that," Jim said, sighing as he poised himself at her entrance, and they both moaned when he entered her, for a moment stunned to silence, for a moment again remembering that they'd both thought they'd never get to do this again. "Oh god, Melinda, there is no end of the sea. Not for us."

"Yes," she breathed, her arms tighter around him. "Not for our love, at any rate."

And he just nodded, and they fell silent, working to bring each other to the highest amount of pleasure possible, before finishing, before going again, before falling asleep in each other's arms, lulled to rest by the beat of the other's heart and the rise and fall of the sea.


	21. Chapter 21

So to make it easier:

Katie and Ned's children are:  
Rory and Fitzwilliam, 7 year old twin boys  
Jennifer, 5  
Lena, 3  
Abigail, six months

And Jimel's children are:  
Elizabeth, 7  
Paul, 5  
Edward, 3  
Mariah, 11 months

 **Seven Years Later…**

The house was ablaze with sunshine and Jim slowly drifted awake; usually he was jolted by someone screaming for a doctor.

Lying on his stomach, he was aware of his wife sprawled across him; he could feel the tickle of her hair pressing into his back, and the curve of her cheek; he could feel her breath.

He'd been sleeping like the dead after helping Mrs. Potter give birth to twins last night, so he wasn't surprised he'd slept through her climbing on top of him. Besides, she did it often.

And this…

He carefully rolled onto his side, flipping them, pinning her beneath him. This was what Jim did often, his favorite morning routine on the rare mornings he got to sleep in.

She blinked awake, smiling up at him. "Good morning, Dr. Clancy," she said a bit saucily. "More babies successfully brought into the world?"

"Yes, Mrs. Clancy," he replied, leaning to press a kiss to her deliciously warm neck, and then trailed kisses up her jaw until he found her lips.

Her arms wound around his neck, sighing, letting her mouth fall open to him until he pulled away, sighing with pleasure, pressing a kiss to her shoulder at the gaping neckline.

"I never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad your mother moved in with us," Melinda said idly as he slowly pulled her neckline lower, groaning as more skin was revealed to him. "She and I have gotten very close, closer than I ever expected considering how we first met."

"Well," Jim said, finding her nipple. "I'm glad, and I rather expected it." He tugged, making her hands burrow into his hair and hold tight. "My mother isn't one to hold someone's past against them. Besides…" He switched to the other breast, making her gasp. "It's not like you did anything worse than I did and she forgave me."

"You're her son, though," she breathed, bucking against him. "And I'm the girl who led you astray."

"Yes, but my brother had already done that, condemned me," Jim said, coming back up to kiss her lips, pull a moan from her throat. "And you…" He grinned at her. "You saved me."

She smiled back up at him. "Oh, we don't have time for this," she breathed. "The children will be waking soon."

"Let them," Jim said. "Please. Let me have these moments with you, alone." He pressed a kiss to her nose. "I've missed these mornings," he breathed, his hands coming to cradle her face. "Missed seeing you wake up, feeling like we're still on the ship, just us two against the world."

"I thought you'd never admit to missing any of it," she said, face softening. "You still don't like to speak of it."

"There were some stressors," he said. "Things I don't like to remember, like how we were fleeing for our lives at every turn." He leaned down and captured another kiss from her lips. "But I was with you."

"Yes," she breathed, as his hands slid lower, sliding to the hem of her nightgown, starting to drag it up. "And we were together every day...and every night."

"Every single night," he agreed. "No matter if we'd fought that day. Nothing stopped us."

"Which is why we had two children before we even managed to find someone to marry us,' she chuckled.

"I was a captain, I married us," Jim teased. "And legally that mattered...but we were breaking the law anyway. And morally...we'd long ago pledged our lives to each other."

"I know," she whispered. "And never looked back."

"Ever," he said, and then her nightgown was high enough that they lost all track of conversation.

* * *

Breakfast was a busy time in the Clancy household; Grandmother Faith helped regulate the children but there was still a steady and merry chatter of their voices as breakfast was prepared by Melinda with the help of their cook.

Jim sat at the table, bouncing Mariah, who was less than a year, on his leg, looking up at Melinda brought breakfast in; porridge with thick cream and a lovely dose of honey for each bowl.

"I can take her," Faith offered. "Or we can hand her off to the nursemaid."

"Well, I haven't seen enough of her lovely face these past few days," Jim said, holding Mariah closer. "I've been so busy, I just want a day to spend entirely with my family."

"Can we go on a picnic?" Five year old Paul exclaimed, banging his spoon on the table.

"Yes," Melinda said immediately. "In fact, I already asked Katie and Ned if they'd like to join us. We could walk down to the pond, make a whole day of it."

"Yes," Elizabeth, seven, enthused. She had vivid blue eyes, just like her father, a testament to how she'd spent the first years of her life at sea. She was their eldest, and had Faith's blonde hair. "I want to see Rory and Fitz."

"Of course you do," Jim laughed. "That sounds lovely, Melinda. Mother, we'd love if you joined us."

"I would enjoy that," Faith admitted. "It's good to be around my family again." She smiled around the table, patting little Edward's head where he sat next to her. "Even if they can get quite a bit loud sometimes."

"Yes," Melinda agreed. "But why silence them? It's one thing of upbringing children that I truly don't believe in."

It wasn't the first time that they'd had this conversation; it was the first time that it wasn't an argument.

Jim's heart warmed to see how much Melinda was truly accepting Faith into their home. She'd been such a bulwark for him, the one light in his life after a while, and then everything had changed...and then she'd fought so fiercely for Jim's right to a pardon; she was so much of the reason why he was here now, enjoying breakfast with his family.

Melinda met his gaze, reaching for his hand. "Andrea wrote to me yesterday," she said softly as Faith got distracted by the children. "She and Jamison sailed back to Jamaica; they have settled next to Delia and Tim and they expect to be very happy there."

"I'm glad," Jim said. "I'd hoped."

She nodded, holding tight to his hand for a moment. "I still wish they'd stayed in England," she whispered. "But I see all too well why they left."

Jim just nodded, bringing her hand up to meet his lips. "Delia and Tim have been making a good life down there, and I'm sure they will too."

"Yes," Melinda breathed. "I hope so."

* * *

"Stop chasing me, you aren't a child anymore," Katie shrieked, running through the gardens.

"Well, why don't you stop running then and let me catch you?" Ned protested, finally vaulting over a plant and capturing her, one arm tight around her waist. "I swear, you're harder to pin down than our twins."

"Well, I don't want to be late to the picnic," Katie said. "It's such a lovely day, let's not waste a moment of it."

"We're not going to be late if you just let me admire this dress for a minute," Ned said, holding tight to her wrists, looking at the light blue. "You look beautiful."

"Yes, but I know what comes next," Katie said teasingly, walking backward and tugging him towards the house. "Admiring becomes touching. Touching becomes taking me out of it."

"You know me too well," Ned said, diving forward and grabbing her again, pulling her flush against him and planting a passionate kiss to her lips. "My lovely wife."

"My wonderful husband," she whispered in return, her hands slipping down his back, going so low his hopes were raised and he moaned, pressing his hips into hers and easing his arms around her.

With a giggle, she tore away, back into the house. "It's time to go," she said. "Father is coming to meet us, so stop being a fool, Ned."

Ned finally stopped, laughing so hard his chest hurt, following his wife out to the already packed carriage. The twins, Rory and Fitzwilliam, both seven, were chasing each other around the yard and their younger sisters were under the careful watch of their nursemaid.

"I'm sorry, Leticia," Katie giggled. "For leaving you with this set all alone. I had to deal with something."

"I'm sure," Leticia said drolly. "This is my day off, ma'am."

"I know," Katie said. "I'll let you go now." She carefully took her six month old baby from Leticia's arms, smoothing the blankets around Abigail's face. "Hello, my dove," she whispered. "Mother is here."

"And father too," Ned said, voice deep by her ear, grabbing hold of Jennifer's and Lena's hands. "Let's go," he said, boosting his daughters into the carriage one by one, then turning to Katie and placed his hands at her waist, swinging her up into the front seat, baby and all. "Boys!" He called. "Come along, hurry up."

Rory and Fitz finally came running, panting and clothes in disarray. Katie sighed to see it, but also smiled. Boys would be boys. Seeing Elizabeth would calm them down, subdue them before they weedled her into joining their game and they'd become worse than ever.

They were thick as thieves, those three. Katie hated to think of there being future possible love triangle between the three, but already the woman in the village tutted their tongues when they saw how close Elizabeth was to both of them.

"She'll be trouble one day, mark my words."

Well, Katie didn't care. Her sons could stand to have their hearts broken if they were foolish enough to let it happen in such a manner. And they'd find other girls, who were just as kind hearted and spirited as Elizabeth was promising to be.

Ned clicked his tongue, reins in hand, and the horses started off. "You know," he said. "I never thought I wouldn't be sailing on a ship. Not after a point. And you...the sea is in your blood. I never thought to see you on dry land and yet we are." He nodded as a horse came up the lane. "And here's your father too."

"The call of family was more than the sea at some point, for all of us," Katie said cheerfully. "I didn't want history to repeat itself if we stayed at sea."

"I know," Ned said, voice softening.

"And father came with me, of course," Katie said. "He wouldn't let his only daughter and his grandchildren go off without living nearby."

"Well, considering how he's already caught the eye of several widows in the neighborhood, I don't think that's the only appeal at this point," Ned chuckled.

"Yes," Katie agreed. "I...I never thought I'd say this, the thought before, well, you, made me nauseous but I would so love to see my father find love again. Romance. Why should he be alone?"

"Indeed," Ned agreed, smiling at her again. "Indeed. Speaking of, I think I deserve to find romance again too."

"What could you possibly mean by that?" Katie asked, glaring at him.

"Remember our wedding night? Er, afternoon?" Ned corrected. "I think it's about time for a repeat performance."

Katie's mouth fell open, and her cheeks flushed hot. "Ned Banks!"

"A performance of what?" Rory asked, leaning forward in his seat.

"Nothing," Katie said. "Your father is being foolish." She lowered her voice. "Ned, there will be no time and it would be unfair to ask Jim and Melinda to watch our children along with theirs for so long."

"Who said it would be long?" Ned asked slyly.

Her eyes widened again and this time her mouth curved into a saucy grin. "Let's see how it goes," she whispered.

"Your father will be there, and probably Faith Clancy as well," Ned said. "Plenty of hands."

"Not enough for what I want you to do to me," Katie said and revelled in how Ned jerked on the seat, a grin on his face.

"That's more like what I want to hear," he breathed, placing a hand on her thigh as soon as they got out of the village, and wouldn't cause a scandal. Not that it would matter. They were already the scandals of the village.

* * *

The day was perfect, with a vibrant blue sky and fat, puffy white clouds.

Jim watched Elizabeth play with Rory and Fitz, Paul and Jennifer trying to keep up with their siblings and both failing a bit; seven year olds were a lot quicker than five year olds.

He turned to Melinda, who sat by his head, holding Mariah on her lap, and then over at Faith, who had inexplicably ended up holding Abigail for Katie and Ned while they went off to 'admire nature', something that fooled only the children watching.

And Captain Gregory—Jim would never be able to think of the man as anything else—stood there, occasionally racing after a child who got too close to the water. He was a remarkably fit man for his age.

The sea would do that to you, though. Keep you hale and hearty far past most men's primes.

He lay on his back, staring at the sky, Melinda's hand idly stroking his hair, making him wonder if she'd be up for a 'nature walk' once Katie and Ned had returned because, suddenly, morning was too far away.

Lunch had long ago been packed up, all the sandwiches and fruits put away. There were still some biscuits sitting out, ready for a hungry child to run back and grab one before going to play again.

Lena was toddling around the blanket, finally collapsing next to Edward, who'd somehow fallen fast asleep.

Jim smiled as Lena curled up next to his son, obviously joining the younger boy in a nap.

Katie and Ned finally came back through the woods, looking rumpled and very pleased with themselves, taking Abigail back from Faith; Katie holding the baby close and rather reminding Jim of Melinda herself; but Mariah was five months older, and sitting up, alert and wanting to be active.

Life would never be dull, Jim mused, reaching a hand up to wind his fingers through Melinda's, pressing a kiss to her palm. Not with these children around.

Elizabeth came running back up, her pretty pink dress thoroughly covered in dust, her hair ribbons long ago fallen out. He chuckled to see her; she tried so hard every time playing with Rory and Fitz to keep clean and tidy, but the boys brought out her wild side, making her forget every lesson about manners that Grandma Faith was desperately trying to drill into her.

But there was time.

Elizabeth collapsed next to Melinda, laying her head in Melinda's lap next to Mariah. "They're getting too fast," she complained. "I only just made it to the blanket."

"Are you racing them again, darling?" Melinda wondered.

"Yes," Elizabeth sighed. "And I'm winning. Barely."

"Well, keep trying," Melinda encouraged.

Faith made a small sound of disagreement but Jim saw her and Melinda exchange a smile then too; things were working out.

Paul and Jennifer came back to the blanket also, followed by Rory and Fitz and then Captain Gregory.

It was clear that the picnic was winding to an end.

Katie and Ned gathered up their children, Katie holding Abigail and Ned lifting a sleeping Lena into his arms, holding Jennifer's hand tight in his while Rory and Fitz ran ahead to the carriage.

Jim helped Melinda up as Elizabeth grabbed Paul's hand, swinging it as they followed in Grandma Faith's footsteps to the carriages, Captain Gregory hurrying ahead to pick up an exhausted Jennifer when Ned couldn't fit both daughters in his arms.

Jim picked up a dozing Edward, and Melinda held tight on Mariah; his arm slid around her, shifting Edward to his other arm.

"I adore you," he whispered.

She looked up at him, a smile on her face. "I believe that the sentiments are fully heartedly returned," she said, leaning into his embrace, letting them hang back a little. "This is a perfect life."

He nodded, pulling her in, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in her perfume again. "I want to be with you again once we're home," he told her. "If you feel up to it."

"Up to it?" Melinda teased. "I believe ever since Katie and Ned ran off on us and left us unable to do the same that I have been dying for one of your kisses. You were gazing up at the sky like that, practically ignoring me, even though I was right there."

"I was drinking the day in," he mused. "And the sight I got from down there."

She laughed, which turned into a gasp as his hand moved higher, decidedly nowhere near her waist now. "Your mother's here, and Katie and Ned," she scolded.

"They're used to it," he breathed.

"Captain Gregory is, too," she said, gasping again as his hand started to drift again.

"He's also used to it," he moaned.

"Let us get home, at least," she said.

"You're right," Jim said as they reached the carriages.

They made fond farewells to Katie and Ned, embracing, waving to Captain Gregory and seeing the Banks leave before settling into the carriage themselves.

"Can we have cake at tea?" Elizabeth asked.

"Perhaps," Melinda said. "Now look around you at how beautiful the world is."

The back gradually quieted; Faith had a calming affect on the children.

* * *

Katie leaned on her husband's shoulder, fondly remembering how he'd looked at her today in the glen, all devilish eyes and roving hands, rippling shoulders and tight hips as he'd pushed into her.

She leaned to steal a kiss from him, thoroughly distracting him, but they were nearly at home, and he merely stopped the carriage early.

Rory and Fitz exploded from the carriage, the only children still awake, running to the back of the house.

Katie and Ned got Jennifer, Lena and Abigail settled down for naps before turning to look at each other.

"We should go bring in the boys," he said softly.

"Yes," she said. "You go do that. And if you get them settled, then I'll have a surprise for you."

His eyes gleamed and it was a shockingly quick fifteen minutes later that he returned, looking a bit harried but no less eager, stopping stock still when he entered the bedroom and Katie was on the bed, not wearing much of, well, anything.

"Come here," she said. "I need more seducing."

Their laughter and moans lasted deep into the night, and their love lasted far after.

* * *

 **Tea time seemed to have started a never ending rush after the children; Paul and Edward had woken up and become quite energized, tearing about the house and imitating the twins at the picnic.**

Melinda felt exhausted as she stepped into her bedroom that night; Jim had somehow gotten the boys down before she was finished settling Mariah for the night with her nursemaid, and Jim waited on the bed, deliciously shirtless.

And she was tired, and felt like she'd run a mile, but she walked easily forward, presenting him with her back and perching on the edge of the bed. "Undo my buttons," she whispered.

"Gladly," he breathed, hands running down the back of her dress.

She undressed slowly, until Jim how tired she was and stood up, helping tug off garment after garment, from her dress down to her petticoats; corsets and chemise.

"You're tired," he whispered, helping her pull a nightgown over her head and picking her up into his arms, taking her hairbrush from the vanity. "Let me do this."

"Thank you," she breathed, as he set her on the bed, and carefully undid her bun, watching as her hair tumbled down around her. It was longer than ever, and he pressed a kiss to the back of her neck before starting.

He pulled the brush slow and steadily, working patiently through the rare snarls, and then ably braided her hair, as she preferred, tying a ribbon around the end and pressing a kiss to it once done.

And she felt so sleepy, exhaustion in every limb, as Jim's hands slipped to her shoulders. "Do you want me to rub you?" He asked.

"Yes, please," she breathed, leaning into his hands as he rubbed her shoulders. "Maybe lower. My back…"

He nodded, increasing the pressure slightly, making her sigh in pleasure. "Lower," she requested.

She felt her body respond to how he was touching her, to the firmness and strength in his hands. She knew what his hands could do. And her body was asking for it, pleading.

"Lower," she whispered, and his hands slid to her buttocks, thumbs moulding the skin there, and she moved onto her stomach. "That's the right spot."

She heard his chuckle, as his hands worked at her derriere, soothing it, slowly pulling her nightgown up, until her legs were bare and he was pressing a kiss to one side. "I love you," he said hoarsely.

She rolled onto her stomach, sitting up and pulling her nightgown back off. "Then make love to me," she breathed. "Be my wild pirate lover who'd never let sleepiness stop either of us."

"Very well," he said, his lips falling to meet hers. "But you might have to remind me just what I did."

She grinned into the kiss, lifting one leg and wrapping it tightly around his waist, pressing herself against him. "You know, I shan't have any difficulty doing that," she whispered.

And then there was no more room for words.

Life had changed in seven years for the Clancys; their whole world has shifted, and they were finally, perfectly, living a dream that they'd both thought would never come true.

But the world has a way of taking care of ones who love far beyond they are loved, and when people like those meet...when they fall for each other...well, it takes care of them all the more.

 **The End**


End file.
